Open (24 Hours)
by Monchy
Summary: In a tiny Parisian street, Sebastian runs a little café that used to belong to his grandfather. He's lonely and a little lost, and when Kurt Hummel - sad, a little lost himself - walks back into his life, it's almost like he's starting to live again.
1. Chapter 1

**Open (24 Hours)**

"_Perhaps love is the process of my gently leading you back to yourself."_

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Sebastian still remembers the first day he saw his grandfather's café, a tiny and cramped thing that had looked old even back then, in the middle of one of Paris' twisted, narrow streets. He'd been six, and it had been during his first visit to the city of love. He remembers the smell of pie and coffee, and asking his grandpa about the photos, newspaper articles and tiny drawings that covered the entire once white wall.

When his grandfather died, it had passed to his mom, and had remained closed until she had let Sebastian have it. He had reopened it, and had left it just as it was, full of too tiny tables and mismatched chairs, illuminated by low, warm yellow light. He'd even left the same _open 24 hours_ sign hanging on the door.

Sebastian loves it. He loves the café and the city, and even when his dad had offered to find him a proper internship at some fancy law firm – _you studied law, Sebastian, you're not going to waste your future in some tiny business in Paris_ – he'd declined, and he'd kept the café.

* * *

"That's it for the day, I'm going home."

Ginette, who is tiny and pretty and insists on speaking to Sebastian in heavily accented English, gives him a slow nod as she grabs her coat and heads for the door. Sebastian answers the nod with one of his own, and seeing as there are no clients at the café, he turns his eyes back to his book.

He hears Ginette hum, and when he looks up, she says, "Do you ever go out? Out there, where there's sun and you know, _other people?_"

Sebastian blinks and smiles at her as his eyes find the big window of the café. Not only is it past ten at night, but it's January in Paris: they won't be seeing any sun for a few months still.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," Ginette tells him before he can answer.

Sebastian shrugs, looks back down at his book. "Someone has to be here to tend to the night crowd. Wouldn't want the prostitutes to go without their warm coffee, now would we?"

Ginette groans as she opens the door, letting the night breeze inside. Sebastian trembles involuntarily, and throws her a small glare.

"You need some friends, 'Bastian," she says.

"I have you, don't I?"

"I don't even like you."

Sebastian shrugs, smiles a little and says, "My friends never did, anyway."

* * *

Sebastian has a grand total of three people hired to run the café: Ginette, who wants to be an actress but can't lie at all, Tom, a huge American kid that fell in love with Paris and wants to paint for a living, and Paulette, who is warm and loud and always says that he's like the son she never had. Sebastian always tells her that he already has a mom, even if all he has left of her is a stone at a graveyard and her lingering smell on her old clothes.

They're not his friends, not really, but Sebastian likes them well-enough, and the three of them are almost as in love as he is with the café. He's never been good at relationships, and not even a change of country has done anything to make him any better at them. Sex is easy to get and easy to forget later, and what else does Sebastian need, anyway?

He likes to tell himself that he's not lonely, and unlike Ginette, Sebastian has always been a great liar.

* * *

A slow, cold January night finds Sebastian smoking outside the café, his eyes scanning the melting snow that covers the ground. The street is barely lit, and the orange tip of his cigarette looks almost alien in the cold night. This is his favorite Paris, dark and cold, full of mysteries and promises.

It isn't until two o'clock in the morning that a small crowd fills the café. There are some kids on a late night out, craving something warm before hitting the clubs again, and a few of his regulars, mostly prostitutes that like him because he serves his coffee and his pie with a smile and a few words.

He's leaving a steaming cup of chocolate on a table, receiving a smile from Alphonse, who has gorgeous hazel eyes and who Sebastian hired once on a lonely Christmas night, when a group of laughing people enters the café. He looks back, listens to the loud American voices with mild annoyance as he walks behind the counter.

"I'll just take one to go, Jesus, give me a break, you people," a girl says, immediately turning his way and continuing her speech, as if breathing is unnecessary, "Do you speak English? Please say you do and that you can give me a coffee to go."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, about ready to throw this lot out of his café in perfect English, when a soft voice stops him.

"Amanda, that's incredibly rude! _Excuse moi, s'il vous plait, nous voudrions…"_

He has blue eyes and pale skin, even if his cheeks are pink from the cold. He's breathtaking, and it takes Sebastian nearly half a minute to realize that he's looking at Kurt Hummel. It's been nearly eight years since he last saw him, but he's clearly recognized him, if the _oh _shape of his lips is any indication.

"Sebastian," he says, the name lingering in the air between them, "I–" he stops, and after a bit, says, "Hi." It's breathy and questioning, like he can't quite believe that they'd ever find each other in some tiny Parisian café.

He's about to answer with something – something witty and smart and not shocked, he hopes – when he's interrupted yet again by a shrill, female voice.

"Can I get that coffee now?"

Sebastian lowers his eyelids, glares directly at the woman. "No, you fucking can't. Why don't you take your attitude to some place that appreciates it?"

She huffs, unimpressed, and when Sebastian looks back at Kurt, his eyes are huge but his lips are trying to hide a small smile. Sebastian smiles at him, curving up just one side of his mouth involuntarily. Before he can say something, though, the small group is leaving the café, and someone is pulling Kurt away. Kurt goes, but glances back once more before Sebastian loses sight of him completely.

* * *

That morning, once Paulette and Tom have taken the morning shift and he's lying on his bed, his much needed sleep eludes him. He's done everything possible to hide away from his life back in Ohio, and Kurt Hummel is by far the last person he expected to ever see again. For some reason, though, he can't stop thinking about him.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of days later Sebastian is out back when Ginette's voice cuts through the silence. "'Bastian, there's a pretty boy here to see you!"

"Ginette, we really need to have that indoor voice conversation again," he says as he walks back inside, steps fast and eyes distracted.

It doesn't take him a second to recognize Kurt this time, though, clad in a gray coat, a dark red scarf and a fancy hat. He could almost be French with the way he looks, Sebastian muses.

"Hi," Kurt says, his voice as breathy as it had been the other night.

"Hello," Sebastian answers a little dumbly. Truth be told, he hadn't expected Kurt to show up again, and now that he's here, Sebastian doesn't know exactly what they can possibly say to each other.

Thankfully, Sebastian can always count on Ginette to interrupt a conversation.

"Well, isn't this awkward?" she says.

Kurt laughs, light and clear and closing his eyes just a tiny bit. Small laugh lines appear around his eyes, and Sebastian is just a little bit enchanted, but not so much that he can't turn to Ginette and say, "Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious."

"Thank God I do, 'Bastian, you can be a little… what's the word? Dense? _Oui_, dense, sometimes."

Kurt laughs yet again, and as he approaches and takes a seat at the counter, he says, "I already like her."

"Of course you would, princess," Sebastian answers almost immediately. It's easy and natural, and Sebastian can't help a small smile when Kurt leans forward and lets his shoulders relax. "This is Ginette, clearly a punishment for my bad behavior. Ginette, this is Kurt. He… well, he's an old friend."

"Friend is a generous way to put it," Kurt says, but when Sebastian looks at him, he's smiling.

Sebastian lets them share a couple of pleasantries while reaching back and starting to make a cup of coffee. Ginette excuses herself fairly quickly, though, and goes to attend the tables and make herself look busy. Then it's just the two of them, and Sebastian's little café around them. The coffee machine is making some horrible noises behind him when Kurt starts talking.

"So, you're here," he says.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, says, "Yes, Captain Obvious, I'm here."

"Well, excuse me, I'm just a little surprised!"

Sebastian hums, turning around when the machine stops working to serve the coffee. He pours two cups, and then brings them to the counter and places them between them. He wants to say that if anyone has any claim to Paris, it's him, and not Kurt.

"You work here?" Kurt asks. He's stirring the coffee and resting his free hand against the side of the cup, as if trying to warm his skin.

"I own the place," Sebastian says. Almost immediately, he clarifies, "It was my granddad's, originally."

Kurt hums, and then blinks deliberately slow. He doesn't know what to say, and Sebastian isn't surprised. He doesn't know what to say himself, how to go about catching up with someone he didn't ever have a relationship with. All Kurt and Sebastian ever had was mutual hatred and an apology that Sebastian hopes was sincere enough.

"What are you doing in Paris?" Sebastian asks after a while, if only because the least they can do is cover the basics.

"Working," Kurt answers. "It's a small show, we're touring Europe. I'm here for six weeks." It comes out in a rush, as if rehearsed.

Sebastian wants to ask more, but Kurt looks down and at his watch, making a fuss about it as if he wants Sebastian to notice.

"I–I have to go, actually," he says, "Early rehearsal today."

"Already?" Sebastian wonders immediately. He doesn't know why, because it's very clear that he doesn't know how to talk to Kurt, doesn't know how to go about this surprise meeting. Still, a sudden panic fills him, and he reaches out and wraps his hand around Kurt's wrist. Kurt looks down, lets his eyes trace the shape of Sebastian's fingers against the fabric of his coat.

"I'll come back, no need to keep me here."

Sebastian reacts quickly, pulling his hand away and smirking. "Please, Hummel, as if I need some charity visit."

"Admit it," Kurt says, a pretty smile touching his features, "you can't live without me."

"Yes, of course princess, I've been waiting patiently for you all these years." He puts enough disdain in the words to make them almost unpleasant. Still, when Kurt leaves, he does it with a promise to come back.

* * *

Kurt doesn't come back the next day, and Sebastian's mood is so foul that Paulette pats his cheek and sends him home with a stern glare. After Sebastian concedes, she gives him a big hug and tells him to call this guy that's on his mind. Sebastian tries to protest, but she just gives him a knowing smile.

He goes home, a tiny apartment right above the café that has the most beautiful view Sebastian has ever seen. It's clattered with books and old furniture, and one of these days Sebastian is going to put everything in some kind of order. Not today, though. Today, he makes himself some coffee and buries himself under the covers with a well-read book.

He thinks of Kurt. The image of his smiling face is burnt in his retinas, and he can't explain _why. _Maybe it's because Kurt is a reminder of a life he left behind, or maybe because he's too pretty to forget. Maybe, Sebastian musses, he just wants to get to know this older Kurt that has bright eyes and smiles at him.

* * *

It's almost midnight of the next day when Kurt shows up again. Sebastian is outside smoking and freezing while Tom picks up his stuff inside and gets ready to leave the night shift to Sebastian. It's probably Sebastian's favorite hour to work, if only because the clientele is few and far between, and he can read and smoke to his heart's content.

"Hey," he says when he sees Kurt approach, a couple of girls behind him.

"Come on, Kurt! Come dance with us," one of them says, shrill voice echoing in the empty street. "You can't spend your night in that depressing coffee shop."

Kurt merely gives the girls a tired look and a wave, walking away as he says, "Goodnight, Amanda."

Sebastian catches sight of a pout on the girl's face, and then Kurt is standing next to him, his hands inside his pockets and his eyes searching Sebastian's.

"God, I can't stand her," he says, "I can't stand any of them."

"Well," Sebastian counters, smiling a little as he moves his cigarette away from his lips, "I am much better company, if I do say so myself."

Kurt hums while giving him an appreciative look. "I'll be the judge of that, Smythe, don't flatter yourself so soon."

"It wounds me that you don't trust my word, you know?"

Kurt says nothing, barely moves his lips into a tiny smile. He's looking at Sebastian, slow and steady, and Sebastian would love to know what's going through his head. He's reminded of the first time they met, of the way they had looked at each other in some sort of mutual unvoiced challenge. It's funny how oblivious Blaine had been to the game that was being played around him, whereas Kurt had seen Sebastian coming from a mile away. Sebastian had always thought that had the circumstances been different, he and Kurt would have actually been good friends. There was a lot to say for a guy who didn't even pretend to buy what Sebastian was selling.

"You smoke?" Kurt asks after a while, his eyes looking at the orange tip of Sebastian's cigarette.

Sebastian just lifts an eyebrow before taking a drag, almost making a show of blowing the smoke from his mouth. He stops himself from making a comment about the obviousness of Kurt's statement, and says, "A couple a night, or so."

"Only at night?" Kurt asks, curious.

"Yeah," Sebastian answers, his shoulders sagging a little as he leans back against the wall by the door of the café. "It's a thing."

Kurt laughs after that, tiny but free and throwing his head back a little. Sebastian looks at the long line of his neck, partially covered by a dark grey and green scarf.

"What?" he asks, smiling a little himself when he looks at Kurt's lips.

"It's just… so romantic," Kurt says, and when Sebastian lifts a questioning eyebrow, he continues, "the little café in a tiny Parisian street, the mismatched tables, the smoking only at night while freezing in the street. I never thought you were type."

"Just because I don't dig the Disney prince romance doesn't mean I don't have my own sense of it, Hummel."

"Honestly? Until four days ago I wasn't sure you even had a soul."

Sebastian puts one hand to his chest, mock offended, and says, "Ouch, princess, hit a guy where it hurts the most, why don't you?" When Kurt gives him a wry look, Sebastian puts his hand down, looks at him, and with a sigh says, "Yeah, ok, I was an asshole in my teenage years, and you got the worst of it. I apologized once, but I'll say it again: I'm sorry I was a jerk and nearly blinded your boyfriend because I hate not getting what I want. Can't we move past this now that it's been so long?"

Kurt just looks at him for a second, and then says, "I wasn't looking for an apology, Sebastian." His tone is small and breathy, and the way his name rolls from his tongue makes Sebastian shiver. "I'll accept it anyway and move on, though." He looks up, smiles. "Can we go inside now? It's freezing out here."

Sebastian puts off his cigarette, even when there's almost half of it left, and pushes the door open to let Kurt inside the café. The bells jingle above them, and when Kurt steps in, it feels like a life changing step for a moment. Maybe Sebastian has just read too many books and looks for symbolic gestures where there's none, but for now, he holds on to the notion that Kurt is here to stay.

The café is empty but for Tom, who is already putting on his coat and pulling a beanie over his dirty blond hair. The moment he looks up, a goodbye clearly ready between his lips, his eyes brighten for an instant, and then he's crowding into Kurt's personal space.

"Oh my God, you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, you have to let me paint you!" he says this so fast that it's hard to understand him, his tone taking on a dreamy tone at the end of his sentence.

Kurt looks at Sebastian, mildly panicked, and Sebastian laughs before chastising Tom with, "Tom, personal space, we've talked about this."

"Oh fuck, sorry, yeah," he says, stepping back from Kurt with a sheepish smile.

"Kurt, this is Tom, and despite his enthusiasm he's neither gay nor a psychopath."

Tom is nodding along as Sebastian speaks, and when Sebastian's done, he says, "I really, _really _want to paint you. Like, just a couple of portraits. Sketches, really. We could do it here? You wouldn't even have to stay still, I promise. You just have the most amazing eyes." His speech is rushed yet again, but he's looking at Kurt with so much earnestness that Sebastian knows he won't say no.

"Ok-ay," Kurt manages, right before muttering a low _oof _when Tom launches forward and hugs him tight.

Sebastian laughs, because he's been at the other end of Tom's enthusiasm and it can certainly be a bit too much, especially because the guy looks like a jock but is actually more like an overeager puppy who happens to be passionate about art.

"Thank you, thank you!" Tom exclaims before releasing a mildly amused Kurt, and stilling himself. "Right, I'll see you around then?" Kurt nods, and Tom smiles big and wide. "Great. I'll get going now, so… goodnight." He steps away from Kurt, pats Sebastian's back with a big hand, and after a mumbled _'night, Seb_ leaves the café.

"Right," Kurt says once they're alone, "so he's… _intense."_

Sebastian snorts. "That's a way of putting it." After a bit, he steps behind the counter, and says, "Come on, I'll treat you to coffee and pie."


	3. Chapter 3

"This thing is going straight to my hips, and I don't even care," Kurt is saying some time later, holding the last piece of Sebastian's blueberry pie with his fork. "I don't want to finish it, 'cause then it will be all gone." He honest to God _pouts, _and Sebastian can't help but smile.

"There's more pie, you know?" Sebastian says.

Kurt shakes his head no, though, his mouth busy on the last piece. They're sitting at one of the tables, the one closer to the window so they can peer outside to the darkened city. They've been mostly alone up until now, only a lone costumer coming for a coffee to go, and if Kurt keeps making those dirty sounds over freaking pie, Sebastian is going to have to close for the night and make him an indecent proposal.

"I can't," Kurt says after he's done, "I'll hate myself in the morning."

"It's just pie, princess."

"This is much more than pie," Kurt says, pointing at his empty plate with the fork, "this is an earthly representation of every capital sin."

"Dramatic much?"

Kurt shrugs as he leaves his fork on the plate with a forlorn look. Almost immediately, he moves his hands to his unfinished cup of coffee, and lets them rest there. He keeps moving them, then, and Sebastian hadn't noticed that particular quirk of his back in the day. Maybe it's a new thing, or maybe Kurt had been so busy keeping his hands on Blaine in front of him that he hadn't moved them much.

"So, tell me about this show of yours," Sebastian says. Conversation is almost fluid now, easier than it had seemed possible, and Sebastian finds himself wanting to know more about this older, quieter Kurt. There's something enchanting about him, and Sebastian wants to look and listen in a way he hasn't wanted for many years.

"It sucks, basically. Like, if I'm ever famous I'll claim temporal insanity."

Sebastian gives him a _look_, like he doesn't believe a word he's saying. "Don't give me that, Hummel, you're not modest about your own talent."

"Oh, no," Kurt says almost immediately, one hand going to his chin and a finger resting lightly against his cheek. "I said _the show _sucked. I'm awesome in it."

Sebastian laughs. "Ah, of course."

Sebastian kind of wants to go see it, and the thought is almost at the tip of his tongue, wanting to be set free. He's not sure, doesn't know which kind of water he's threading here with Kurt. Kurt seems to be appraising him, too, if the way he keeps looking at him is any indication. It's as if he doesn't know what to make of him, and it's a little unnerving. It's been too long since Sebastian has wanted someone to like him.

"How about you?" Kurt asks after a while. "I pictured you like some hotshot, cut-throat lawyer, or something."

Sebastian wiggles both eyebrows, leans forward on his elbows and towards Kurt. "Spent a lot of time _picturing_ me, did ya?"

Kurt snorts. "You sure are good at the whole flattering yourself thing, aren't you?"

"Well, _someone _has to do it," Sebastian deadpans, "and honestly, last time I met you, you were more keen on insulting me. I was traumatized for a week after you said I had CW hair."

Kurt laughs, sudden and fresh, and almost immediately looks at Sebastian's hair. He wears it down this days, mostly because it takes less time and because it seems to fit him better when he's wearing his thick-rimmed glasses, and he wonders if Kurt likes it better or not.

"You insulted my clothes," Kurt tells him after his short laugh. Almost immediately, he points a finger at him, mock-serious, and says, "And if you do so again I will walk away and never come back."

"Hey! I gave you free pie. Doesn't that get me some insulting rights?"

"No, it does _not."_ Kurt lifts his face then, nose high in the air, and Sebastian is suddenly reminded of the day met, in which Kurt had given him that exact haughty look, except back then it had been coupled with a whole lot of thinly veiled disdain.

Sebastian gives him a small smile, wrapping his hands around his own cup of coffee, and looking down for a second before looking back up with an exploratory gaze. Kurt's clothes are… well, _Kurt's clothes. _He has classy down to a tee, but there's something inherently quirky about them, too, and truth be told, Sebastian kind of likes his unique style.

"What are you thinking?" Kurt asks, looking at him as if he's ready for an insult.

"They suit you, you know?" Sebastian says. "Your clothes, I mean," he clarifies. "You just stuck out like a sore thumb in Lima, and it was easy to target that, okay? But you're in Paris now, and the city kind of goes with you and your clothing."

Kurt lowers his lids, looks at him for a silent bit before he says, "Was that a compliment, Sebastian?" He smiles, coyly, and Sebastian can't help but love the way his name sounds coming from his pink lips.

"I've been up since eight this morning and it's almost half past one, I can't be held responsible for what I say in my lack of sleep."

"Uh huh, Sebastian, whatever you say. But," he stops to take a sip of what must be lukewarm coffee by now, and then continues, "You very subtly and masterfully evaded my question." Sebastian lifts an eyebrow, and Kurt moves his hand to the table and drums his fingers. "About not being a lawyer."

"That wasn't really a question."

"Fine, ok. Sebastian Smythe," he begins, "how come you own a little café in Paris instead of being on your way towards becoming a partner at some fancy law firm like I pictured?"

Sebastian's shoulders drop, and he bites his lower lip involuntarily. He wants to fill the gaps of his life for Kurt, but he doesn't want to think about how he followed his mom to Paris after she divorced his dad only to watch her be slowly consumed by cancer. Instead, he chooses to disclose the part of the story Kurt seems to be asking for.

"I did study law, actually," he says, "I just kind of hated it. I, uh, thought about writing for a while, which, yeah, didn't really happen." It's more truth than he thought he'd be giving, but Kurt is looking at him with his really, _really _blue eyes, and suddenly Sebastian wants to share a piece of his soul with him. Truth be told, he hasn't thought about the unfinished drafts on his laptop for months. He's pretty sure his laptop is currently buried under piles of books, anyway.

"Why not? Isn't that something you want to do anymore?"

Sebastian shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable. He _does _want to, he thinks. Some days he even wakes up with the idea of putting his fingers to work, but then he gets distracted by his everyday life and this tiny, cozy café he loves so much.

"I guess, I don't know," he answers.

"What do you mean you don't know? It's the kind of thing you're _passionate_ about and–"

"And what do you know of what I'm passionate about?" Sebastian snaps suddenly. He recoils almost as suddenly, looking into Kurt's big eyes. He didn't mean to snap, but the last thing he wants to talk about is his half forgotten dreams.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry or anything." Kurt looks down then, grabs his empty sugar packet between his hands and starts playing with it. Sebastian can see the way he's physically closing in on himself, and he finds himself reaching out almost unconsciously. He brings his hand to Kurt's wrist, and rests his fingers against the soft fabric of Kurt's sweater. His palm touches Kurt's, and he feels the warmth between them.

"I didn't mean to snap," he says.

Kurt looks up, smiles a little. "It's ok," he says. "Tell me about the café."

Sebastian sees the opening Kurt is giving him, and takes it without a second thought. "It's kind of fantastic, isn't it?" he says with a smile. He takes his hand back reluctantly just so he can lean back and point around himself.

Kurt takes a look around, as if he hadn't taken the time to do it before. The place is quirky and charming, and Sebastian would vouch that Kurt's already a little in love with it.

"A little more space wouldn't be terrible, but I guess it's ok."

"You love it, princess, don't even try to deny it."

Kurt pokes his tongue out at him, childish and happy, and Sebastian breathes more easily knowing that the tension between them has been dispelled. Kurt goes to say something more, but then the bell above the front door jingles happily, breaking the silence. Four people come inside, and when Sebastian recognizes some of his regulars, he looks towards the clock hanging above the coffee machine and notices that it's past two in the morning. Kurt must notice, too, because the next thing he says, is:

"God, I better go if I want to get some sleep. If I'm sleepy at rehearsal tomorrow the director is going to throw a fit."

"Just tell him a hot guy kept you up half the night."

Kurt snorts, and as he's standing up he smacks Sebastian lightly on the arm. "Idiot," he mumbles.

Sebastian walks him to the door after telling his customers that he'll be with them in a minute. They say their goodbyes, and Sebastian is half tempted to reach out and touch Kurt's hands, maybe try to keep him inside the warmth of the café for a little bit longer. In the end, he just tells him to remember his promise to come back and let Tom do a portrait, and then lets him go.

* * *

"And that one?" Kurt points at a newspaper article right behind Sebastian's head, his hands then going back to his unfinished cup of coffee. He's been asking about every little piece of paper that hangs from the café's walls for the past three days, as excited as a little kid and managing to insult Sebastian every time he comes across something he doesn't know about.

This time, the article he's chosen is one from an old horse race, one of his granddad's passions. Sebastian remembers how much his grandma hated it, that his granddad spent so much hard earned money betting on horses. Granddad was good, though, he knew the races and the horses, and every time he won some big price he hung the article at his little café. Sebastian tells Kurt this, and Kurt smiles softly, wistfully, as if picturing the kind of life Sebastian's grandparents may have had.

It's a slow morning at the café, since the early crowd has already left, and Sebastian is free to answer all of Kurt's questions, just as Tom is free to keep sketching away. He's fascinated with Kurt, and if Sebastian is honest, he's not the only one. Kurt's been coming to the café every day since the other night, and Sebastian finds himself excited at the prospect of talking to him almost constantly.

"Do you ever hang anything yourself?" Kurt asks after a while. Sebastian looks at him as Kurt fixes a few sugar packets so they form a perfect square, and has to fight the urge to stop him. He's noticed the quirks, the way Kurt touches his nose three times whenever he talks about his father, and the way his hands keep forming patterns and figures. "Sebastian?" Kurt asks after a beat, looking at him and poking his cheek when he notices how much Sebastian has spaced out.

Sebastian bats his hand away and then keeps it trapped under his own and on top of the counter. He tells himself that it's only so Kurt stops rearranging his sugar.

"Not really, just a few things," Sebastian says, answering Kurt's question while shrugging. "A few pictures and such." He points to a wall behind Kurt, where he's put a few pictures only because there was nothing there, and his granddad hated empty walls.

Kurt stands up and goes to them, inspects them and touches the edges, and it seems like he wants to live the memories that are kept inside. Sebastian hears him murmur _I do miss the blazer_ and he smiles, thinking of the shot of The Warblers they took before Sectionals senior year. He thinks of Hunter and their long lost friendship, and has to fight to bury the memories where he can't reach them.

"He's kind of breathtaking, isn't he?" Tom whispers suddenly, stepping close to Sebastian and showing him his sketching pad even while still looking at Kurt. Sebastian looks at the sketch, studies the soft lines that create Kurt's face, and the only bit of color Tom has used to perfect Kurt's eyes. Tom's talented, and Kurt's definitely a good subject to paint.

"Your gay is showing, Tom," Sebastian jokes, and when Kurt looks back at them, he's smiling.

He walks back toward his seat at the counter while Tom says, "I'm perfectly comfortable with my sexuality, thank you very much. Don't be bitter because I rejected you, Seb."

Kurt laughs and Sebastian looks affronted for a second before he smacks Tom's arm. "The only reason I came on to you in the first place is because you screamed at me from the other side of a park that I had the most beautiful piercing green eyes you'd ever seen."

"Well, it's still true," Tom says, a big smile on his face. He's so heartwarming in his honesty that Sebastian can't find it in him to be mean, even when Tom's sexuality tends to be more than fluid when he's drunk.

The morning ticks by slowly, and by the time Paulette shows up to cover her shift, Kurt's consumed enough coffee that he's a little hyper. They've been talking about his show, mostly, and Sebastian can't help but wonder what the hell Kurt Hummel is doing working on a show he hates so far away from home. Not for the first time, he wonders if maybe Kurt is running away from something.

Once Sebastian's shift is over, he plans for a short meal at home so he can work on the accounts and set a few appointments with his suppliers, but Paulette all but bullies him into taking Kurt out to lunch, claiming that a bit of sun won't hurt him either. Sebastian wants to say that there's no freaking sun outside, but Kurt looks happy at the suggestion, and Sebastian can't say he doesn't like the idea himself.

He takes Kurt to a small restaurant a few streets away. It's old and a little dark, and whenever he moves, he almost hits the guy sitting on the table behind him. It's pure Paris, and Sebastian loves it.

"I like this place," Kurt tells him, and not for the first time Sebastian thinks that Paris suits Kurt.

They are two glasses of wine into their meal when Sebastian says, "Ok, so, romantic history. I know nothing of your love life, Kurt Hummel, and I want to hear everything."

Kurt gives him a _look, _bitchy and glaring, and had they been younger and at the Lima Bean it would have been filled with hatred. Right now, it's a look Sebastian is getting used to, and he likes it because there's fondness behind it.

"You just want to ask about Blaine," Kurt says.

Sebastian smiles, sheepish. "Guilty as charged. Is it awful that I want to know why pocket warbler isn't following you around the city of love?"

Kurt shrugs, turns his eyes away to hide a bit of a sad look. Sebastian hates that reaction, if only because he's a little obsessed with the light that shines in Kurt's eyes whenever he's happy.

"It's not like that anymore," Kurt says, low and breathy. Then, with a small smile and looking back up at Sebastian, he says, "But I'm going to need _a lot _more alcohol if you want the story."

"Deal," Sebastian says almost immediately. "You and me, Friday night. There will be alcohol and stories. As a matter of fact, if you tell me the full story of Kurt Hummel's love life, I will repay in kind." Sebastian smiles, then continues, "Please don't be afraid to share tears and dirty details."

Kurt laughs, and throws a sugar packet at him that hits Sebastian right in the face. Sebastian can't help but notice how throwing it breaks the pattern Kurt had been building on the table.

"You're kind of crazy, aren't you, Sebastian?" Kurt asks, and the way his name comes out of his mouth is almost a caress. Almost everyone in his life tends to shorten it, but Kurt always pronounces the whole thing, his tongue curling around the syllables in a way Sebastian can feel on his skin.

"You wouldn't have me any other way, princess."

* * *

That night, alone in his apartment full of books, Sebastian jerks off thinking about Kurt. He thinks of his bright eyes, of his pink mouth and of the long column of his neck. Kurt is always so covered up in layers of clothes that it's difficult to go much farther than that, but Sebastian manages to conjure the image of opening up just enough buttons to catch a glimpse of Kurt's collarbones and the curve of them as they turn into Kurt's strong shoulders. He thinks of the pale skin, of the small freckles that he's sure cover all of it. He takes his time, thinks of his fingers sliding down Kurt's neck, of his lips touching a shoulder, and he comes hard.

He thinks of Kurt later, breathing hard under his covers. He wants to think that his near obsession is a passing thing, but he just jerked off to a freaking shoulder, so there has to be more to it than that. He likes Kurt, this Kurt that is a little sad and that prefers to spend his time with him rather than with his horrible coworkers, this Kurt that is as bitchy and diva-ish as he remembers but that now teases where before he meant to offend. He likes that despite looking sad, he still smiles when Sebastian teases him. He likes him so much, that he almost makes Sebastian want to get up and write about him.


	4. Chapter 4

He takes Kurt out for coffee next afternoon, to a little place right in front of the Eiffel Tower that he calls clichéd and touristy but that Kurt seems to love precisely for those reasons. Later, they stroll down the busy streets, and then take a seat at a bench in a tiny park. Sebastian thinks it's too cold to be sitting outside, but Kurt's cheeks are pink from the wind, and he's smiling, so he concedes.

"I should get going," Kurt says after a few silent minutes have passed between them. "Rehearsal," he explains when Sebastian looks at him. When Sebastian makes as if to stand up, though, he stops him by curling his hand around his arm, murmuring, "Just five more minutes."

Sebastian nods, and when Kurt leans his head on his shoulder and closes his eyes, he pretends that it's the most normal thing in the world. It's almost teasing, the way Sebastian momentarily pictures little moments like this in his future, with Paris around him and Kurt by his side, soft eyelashes a contrast to his pinkish cheeks.

"Kurt," he starts after a bit, "why are you working on something you hate so much?"

Kurt shrugs, not moving from his spot on Sebastian's shoulder, and says, "It's a job, isn't it? There's not a lot of work for _someone like me_, anyway."

Sebastian knows what he means, he does because Kurt says _someone like me _as if he's started to believe the comments he's probably heard while trying to make a Broadway career happen. Sebastian can almost hear them, too – effeminate, too high voice, not male lead material – and the fact that he used things like that to rile Kurt up in the past is a little painful. Still, he sneers when he says:

"Sounds like you're throwing yourself a pity party there, princess."

Kurt snaps almost immediately, moving away from his shoulder and opening bright, angered eyes. Sebastian had almost forgotten the force one single look from Kurt could have.

"Yes, well, at least I'm putting myself out there," he says, quick and snappish.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Sebastian counters.

"I'm trying to pursue my passion, aren't I? It would be much easier to get stuck in the family business and forget all about it, wouldn't it, Sebastian?" And if his name had been a caress on Kurt's mouth just yesterday, today it feels like a punch.

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know that you get angry every time I mention your writing, even when you so clearly love the idea and the possibilities," Kurt says. "I know that you're afraid of changing one single article in that café because that would mean getting involved! So don't talk to me about _pity parties, _Sebastian."

"Well, someone _has to_, Kurt. You recoil every time the conversation moves to anything personal, and you're so stuck in a bad place right now that you jumped at the opportunity of seeing anyone familiar, even if it was me!"

"You're right, you know? What was I thinking, pretending that I could be your friend." He lifts his hands up, as if frustrated, and after a huff, he turns around and starts walking away.

Sebastian reacts almost immediately. He's angry and frustrated, too, and he doesn't want Kurt to leave like that when he's not exactly sure what they're fighting about anymore.

"Kurt!" He calls out. "Kurt, wait!" He goes after him and reaches out, circling his wrist firmly and tugging so that Kurt looks back at him. When he does, Sebastian's reproaches die in his mouth almost immediately. Kurt isn't crying, not exactly, but he looks more upset than angry. Sebastian recoils, takes a step back.

They stay like that for a few seconds, looking at each other, in a standstill. The wind is too cold and Sebastian's skin feels dry and uncomfortable. He doesn't know where to go from here, doesn't know why the idea of loosing these weird relationship he has with Kurt feels so wrong. Most of all, he doesn't know what to say, but when he starts talking, what comes out is something he's never talked about before.

"My mom died," he starts. Kurt gasps, low and sudden, and Sebastian can feel his own tears starting to fight his anger. "I–" he coughs, keeps talking, "I wanted to be a dancer, but I screwed up my knee playing lacrosse, so that went down the drain. But I wanted to write, _I did _Kurt, but my dad thought it was stupid, and I studied law because I wanted him to be proud and I was good at it. It wasn't enough. It's just–" he breathes in, let's the air out through his mouth, fights the tears. "It's never enough with him. He didn't love me any more than before, and he never really loved my mom. He loved this _idea _of what a perfect wife and son are supposed to be, so when they got a divorce I followed mom here."

"Sebastian, you don't have to–I'm sorry, I don't–"

"No, let me finish," he says. "Let me tell you." Because suddenly all Sebastian wants is for Kurt to _know. _"Everything I loved was here, you know? The memories of my grandparents, the café, the city, _mom. _But she–" he breaks, can't stop himself from sobbing softly. "She didn't tell me about the cancer until she was almost gone, and then she just–She died and that was that. I thought I had so much to say, so much to write about, but every time I think about going back to it everything that comes out is depressing and I _can't. _I just can't, Kurt." He stops, breathes in again and it hurts because he's crying and his throat is closing. "And the café is all I have left of granddad and grandma and mom, and it's stupid and cowardly but I love it. I really do, so I just–"

"God, Sebastian, stop. Please, I–I'm so sorry, Sebastian." His name is a caress yet again on Kurt's lips, so soft and light that Sebastian can't find it in himself to stop the tears.

Kurt reaches out, presses his hands to Sebastian's arms and brings him in until they're hugging, close and tight. Sebastian lets the comfort fill him, lets his tears fall on Kurt's soft scarf. He feels breathless, like he's run a marathon, and he wishes he could just lie down and sleep for hours, preferably with Kurt by his side. They just hug instead, the cold no longer so biting as they keep each other close.

Half an hour later they find themselves sitting back on the same park bench. Kurt's supposed to be rehearsing, but it's almost like they can't bear to part ways just now. They're sitting close, too, their thighs and arms pressing together through their layers of clothing.

"I really do hate the show," Kurt says after a while. It's a near mumble, but when he keeps talking, his tone is steady. "I wanted to get away, though. I love New York, and Blaine and Rachel, I _do." _He stresses the word out, like he has to remind himself of it sometimes. "They can be so stifling sometimes, though. With Rachel, it's like she's this fragile little star. You have to look at her, be amazed at her shine, but be ready to catch her at the smallest of obstacles in the way. It's easy, most of the time. I mean, she's so talented." Kurt looks at him, as if waiting for confirmation, and Sebastian nods, because what little he remembers of Rachel Berry is that she was talented.

"But…?" he prompts when Kurt stops.

"It's _so tiring _to be there for her when she never seems to pay back the favor. Broadway seems to bow at her feet, but when she gets the smallest of criticism everyone has to rush and tell her how great she is."

"But when you get constantly criticized no one does that for you?" Sebastian wonders aloud.

"It's always like, like–" he stops, breathes in hard, and then continues, "oh, no, Kurt, you're _wonderful, _but you know, not for _that _part." He licks his lips, and Sebastian can nearly see the anger shimmering in his eyes. "I'm never going to be right for any part, it seems. But I got this, at least, and I thought, why not? I've always wanted to visit Europe, anyway." He shrugs. "I thought I'd do some soul searching or whatever, too, but I can't soul search anything with Amanda constantly screeching around me."

"That's the rude, loud one, right?"

"The one and only. Although they're all kind of rude and loud."

Sebastian chuckles despite himself, just a little, and Kurt smiles a little at him. He's exhausted, but at least his tears have subsided and Kurt is talking to him. His hands seem to be still, too, instead of moving around in an obsessive manner.

"What did you want to soul search about?" he asks, sniffing a bit. He feels like he's cried more for the last few minutes than he's done in years.

"I was thinking about quitting the business, going into fashion, maybe. I had an internship at for a while, and I loved it, so, why not? The singing thing is not working for me, anyway, but I don't want to feel like I just gave up."

"You don't wanna stick with it if it's making you miserable, though."

Kurt looks at him, blinks so slowly that Sebastian has time to detail the blue of his eyes disappearing and appearing again. "You're the first person that's said that to me, you know?" Kurt says. "Everyone always tells me to stick to singing, that I'll make it eventually, that I'm a star and all that."

"Sounds like a lot of mindless blah, blah, blah to me," Sebastian says, shrugging. "Not that you're not talented, but why push for something you don't want anymore? I mean, if you want to do the singing thing, keep at it, if not, well… I think you'd be good at fashion stuff, too."

Kurt looks at him, lifts an eyebrow. "That's the second time you say something nice about my fashion sense, you know?"

Sebastian smiles a little, feels good at leaving the aching feelings he's had through the last hour leave him. "Look, you're wearing turquoise pants. I don't know how that's a valid choice _ever, _but you clearly know something I don't here. I've seen a lot of crazy outfits in this city, and you seem to understand what's happening. I honestly don't know what's wrong with wearing simple pants and a shirt."

Kurt scrunches his nose, as if Sebastian has said something offensive, but he smiles anyway and searches blindly for Sebastian's hand. They're both wearing gloves, but when their palms touch, Sebastian can feel the heat between them.

"You had this shirt," Sebastian starts suddenly, remembering their days back in Lima, "It had a crooked weird collar that made it look like you were wearing it wrong, or something. It made me _so mad, _you have no idea. It was like it defied the whole concept of what a shirt is supposed to be."

Kurt laughs then, happy and free, like they haven't spent their afternoon yelling and crying. "That was probably the whole point of it."

Sebastian squeezes Kurt's hand, has the sudden urge to kiss him. He's been wanting to kiss him for a while, truth be told, his pinkish lips a near constant temptation, but they're both sad and talking about everything that's wrong with their lives, and if they do kiss, Sebastian wants it to be at a better moment. Instead, since they seem to be in a confession mood, he asks:

"So, uh, what about Blaine?" When Kurt looks questioningly at him, he clarifies, "You said Rachel _and _Blaine were stifling."

Kurt sighs and lets go of his hand only to press both of his together. Sebastian sees him tap three times against his ring finger, and understands why when he starts talking.

"I married him," he says, and Sebastian can feel his eyes opening up hugely because _that _was unexpected. "He asked after Regionals senior year, and I should've said no, but it was _Blaine _and I loved him, and I wanted to believe in our Disney romance, so." He shrugs. "It was kind of a mess, of course."

"Wait a sec there, you married at _nineteen?_"

"It seemed like a good idea at time?" Kurt shrugs again, bites his lip softly until it's almost white. "We were so sure we knew what we were doing, and we faked our way through it for two years, but it was terrible. We were still figuring out what we wanted and we got ourselves into this whole compromise we didn't know how to handle. We were living together all of a sudden, and worrying about adult stuff when all we wanted to do was to enjoy college and New York and… fuck, it was awful."

Sebastian cringes a little. He can't relate, but he knows what a clusterfuck it must have been.

"We didn't speak for a whole year after we got divorced."

"And now?" Sebastian asks. His voice is steady and he congratulates himself for it, because he can't wrap his mind around the idea that Kurt is _divorced._

"We're friends. We're good at being friends, and it's _Blaine. _I can't just _not _love Blaine."

Sebastian nods, because that he can understand. His only real friend ever was Hunter, and even if they haven't spoken for over a year after the most epic fight in their history, he can't say he doesn't still love the bastard.

"He's just so…" Kurt continues. "It's like–I don't even know how to say it." He huffs, frustrated, but continues anyway. "He has this perfect boyfriend who adores him, ok? And he took NYADA by storm and then got a part in a musical on his first audition, and it's not that he flaunts it, it's just that–well–"

"He totally flaunts it?"

"God, yes!" Kurt exclaims, and he's laughing, because what else is there to do? "It's as if he was only ever miserable when he was with me, and now everything is perfect, and I want to be happy for him but it just pisses me off."

Sebastian laughs, because Kurt has crossed his arms over his chest and has gone from this slightly saddened adult to a frustrated little kid in no time. He's nearly pouting, too, and it's charming.

"His boyfriend is dumb, anyway." Kurt deadpans, fully pouting now, his lower lip jutting out _just so. _

"Bitchy much?" Sebastian asks in between peals of laughter.

Kurt tries to hold his laughter in, but he can't help but smile. Through it, though, he manages to stick his tongue out at Sebastian, and Sebastian knows, without a doubt, that they're going to be just fine.

* * *

Sebastian leaves Kurt at the theater where he works, a soft smile and no words exchanged between them because they've done enough talking for one evening. Then, he walks back to the café, never mind the cold wind. He still feels exhausted, but he's also breathing better. He's never really talked about his mother or the reasons why he ended up keeping the café, probably because he's too proud to show that kind of vulnerability, and probably because no one's truly asked before. He's not exactly sure why Kurt seems to care so much, but he certainly has a knack for asking the hard questions and getting Sebastian to answer.

He almost feels light on his feet by the time he reaches the café, and when he goes inside, he takes in the sight slowly, and smells the scent of coffee and pie. His contemplation is rudely interrupted by Ginette's voice.

"'Bastian?" she asks from behind the counter. "There's a pretty boy in your apartment. Is this a new thing for you?"

"There's someone in my apartment?"

"Yeah, some guy came over asking for you," Tom clarifies. He's already grabbing his jacket, ready to leave, and Sebastian takes a moment to look at his watch and realize that it's later than he thought. "We let him up," Tom says.

"Some guy asked for me and you just let him up?" Sebastian wonders. He needs new employees, asap. These ones can't be trusted, clearly.

"_Ne sois pas stupide, 'Bastian!" _Ginette exclaims, a smile on her face. "He was in one of your pictures."

Tom is the one to point at said picture, his finger landing right under Hunter Clarington's face. Sebastian groans.

"You have _got _to be kidding me," he says. Of course, today would be the day Hunter decided to randomly show up at his doorstep. "I'm going up; I'll be right back so you can leave, Ginette."

He doesn't wait for an answer, barely registering Tom's loud _bye, Seb! _on the way up to his apartment. There's a door that connects it with the café, and he always keeps a key under the register in case of an emergency. Clearly, not his brightest idea.

He spots Hunter the moment he steps into the apartment, laying down awkwardly on his too small couch and sleeping soundly. He hasn't even bothered to take off his shoes and there's a packed suitcase next to the couch. Sebastian sighs, lets his shoulders relax as he walks towards the couch and sits down on the small table that's in front of it. It gives him a good view of Hunter's face, tired but soft in his sleep.

"Goddammit, Hunt, what are you doing here?" he wonders aloud. Without a second thought, though, he reaches out and cards his fingers through his hair for a second, the touch soft enough that he doesn't risk waking Hunter up.

Sebastian brings his hand back with a sigh, and licks his lips. He needs to go back down to the café and cover the night shift, so it's probably better that he just lets Hunter sleep and they can talk in the morning. He hasn't seen Hunter in over a year, since that one fight in which they had said so many awful things that Sebastian had thought it was irreparable. Despite that, he can't turn his back on him, not if he's so desperate that he's crossed the Atlantic to show up at his doorstep.

He's mulling things over, looking at the little orange bottle of pills Hunter has left on the table by the couch, when he feels something moving against his legs. He looks down when the movement is accompanied by a purr, and a pair of big yellow eyes blinks up at him.

"Of course he brought you with him," he says. He reaches down, scoops up Mr. Puss into his arms and walks out of the apartment with the cat mewling between his arms.

He closes the door behind him and goes back down to the café, where he leaves the cat on top of the counter.

"So cute!" Ginette exclaims almost immediately, reaching out towards the cat, which bats a paw halfheartedly at her.

"That cat is the devil," Sebastian states, walking behind the counter and starting to make a cup of coffee for himself. He's going to need a lot of caffeine to get through this night.

Ginette just gives him a sideways look, as if such a pretty little thing like Mr. Puss couldn't possibly be Satan in disguise. Sebastian knows better, though. He's lived with that cat, and the thing has destroyed more furniture and clothes than he can even remember.

After a while, he ushers Ginette out so she gets back home while it's still a little early, and while drinking a cup of coffee, he fixes a bowl of milk for Mr. Puss.

"Alright, listen," he says, placing the bowl in front of the cat and looking at him. "If you and I are going to spend some time together, we're going to need a pact, ok? This is a peace offering." He points at the milk, looks back at the cat. "So you better behave yourself."

The cat meows at him, and then presses its face into the bowl. Sebastian's positive the evil little thing has understood him. He has a feeling that it's going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

When Hunter finally wakes up and comes down into the café, it's well past four in the morning. There's a small group of college kids drinking coffee and eating pie at one of the tables, speaking in low tones, as if not wanting to disturb the quiet atmosphere inside the café, and Mr. Puss is sleeping on the counter, seemingly content after being petted by every single customer tonight. Sebastian's already smoked one cigarette, but the moment he sees Hunter, wearing the same clothes he was wearing before and with a terrible case of bed head, he starts craving a second one.

Hunter gives him a small look and curves just one side of his mouth as he sits down in front of him, tucking one hand in the pocket of his hoodie and pressing the other one against Mr. Puss' fur. He caresses the cat, one, two, three times before his hand stills. There's a bit of silence, filled only by the soft chatter coming from the college kids, and when Sebastian can't take it anymore, he turns around and starts fixing a cup of coffee. It's his thing, making coffee when he doesn't know where to put his hands, and he wonders if that's any different than Kurt rearranging sugar packets or Hunter and his constant three times repetition of every little action.

He pours the coffee and presents it to Hunter, watches as he puts sugar in it and then turns the spoon three times, clockwise. He's reluctant to fill the silence, but he can't help but remark:

"That bad, huh?"

Hunter shrugs. He's looking down at the coffee, mesmerized. "It's better now with the pills. But," he stops, shrugs, "you know."

Sebastian does know. He's seen every stage of Hunter's OCD, from nearly attacking some poor guy who gave him splenda to developing little quirks to deal with his anxiety. He's seen him go through therapy, pills and silly new treatments that promised calm. It's always been a struggle, though, and Sebastian knows it's always going to be, pills or no pills.

He doesn't know what to say, and is slightly reminded of the first time Kurt walked into the café. He hasn't spoken to Hunter in such a long time that he doesn't know how to go about it, and he's a little too proud to let go and confess that he's missed him. He's not exactly sure how they got stuck with each other, if it was only because no one else liked them, but Sebastian can easily say that Hunter has been his one and only friend, and that he's one of the few people he's ever trusted.

He's been quiet for a little too long when Hunter's shoulders sag, making him look tiny and dejected. Sebastian can feel the tiredness rolling off of him in waves.

"Look, Bas," he says, "I'm sorry for barging into your life like this, I shouldn't have, not after–"

"No, it's okay." Sebastian smiles a little, presses his hand to the counter and spreads his fingers wide, staying still. Hunter once told him that it calmed him, looking at a still hand like that, and _wow_, is Hunter going to _love _Kurt's twitchy hands. Sebastian startles himself with the certainty of his thought, this idea that there's no way Hunter and Kurt won't cross paths now that they're back in his life, that they should meet because they're both important to Sebastian. Sebastian bites his lip a little, hating the way his mind keeps teasing him with these made up certainties that are nothing but speculation.

After a while, Sebastian asks, "Why don't you get some sleep, Hunt? We can talk in the morning."

"I–huh, your apartment's really messy."

"Excuse me?"

"Your books are all scattered, no order whatsoever, and there's clothes everywhere, Sebastian! I was seriously tired before, but now I just want to put some order in there."

Sebastian huffs, offended. "Chaos is a form of order, you know?" he counters.

"Romantic notion, but _no._"

And then Sebastian laughs. He laughs because _fuck_, he's _missed _Hunter, OCD and all, and he hates that they've been on non-speaking terms for so long when their fight stopped hurting so long ago. Sebastian watches the mirth fill Hunter's eyes, and feels a surge of protectiveness that feels unfamiliar just because he hasn't had anyone to care for for what feels like a lifetime.

"What happened, Hunt?" he asks quietly.

"I quit my job, fought with my parents, and when I got too difficult to live with Sarah left." He says it all in a rush, as if tearing a band-aid. "Honestly, I didn't know where the fuck to go, and sadly, you're my only friend."

"You really hated that job," Sebastian says, because he remembers how much effort Hunter put behind his business degree just to please his father, and how much he complained every step of the way.

"And fighting is basically the only form of communication I have with my parents, so." He shrugs, dejected.

Sebastian nods, says, "I'm sorry about Sarah."

"Me, too, but we were just clinging to the memories, honestly." He smiles a sad little smile, and says, "I just needed a few days away from everything."

"Stay as long as you want," Sebastian says, surprising himself with the honesty of his offer.

Hunter smiles again, and looks down, suddenly bashful. Sebastian watches him tap the counter three times before looking up and asking, sheepishly, "Can I clean your apartment?"

Sebastian groans. "Clean the stupid apartment if it makes you happy. But keep your cat away from my furniture."

Hunter smiles at him then, a little stupidly and a lot bright, and then proceeds to start drinking the coffee that must already be cold. Sebastian rolls his eyes, affectionately.

It's only a few minutes before the café is invaded by a new wave of customers and Sebastian starts moving around, comfortable in this little place of the world in a way that he isn't anywhere else. At some point during the night, Hunter murmurs softly _You seem happy, Bas_ and he just shrugs and smiles, because one of the themes of their epic fight of doom had been how Sebastian would never be happy just running a café. Truth be told, Hunter had accused him of many things Kurt had accused him of again just this afternoon, and if he's honest with himself, both of them had been a little too accurate for his liking.

Sebastian loves his little café with all his heart, but it's true that time seems to stop when he spends his days here, and sometimes he forgets about everything else he'd always wanted to do with his life. Kurt has asked the uncomfortable questions, and with Hunter now here too, it's almost like they're clamoring for him to remember about his long forgotten dreams.

* * *

"… it's like it's a whole new place, honestly," Sebastian is saying next afternoon, Kurt nodding and smiling at him as they walk towards the café. "There are tables in there I don't remember ever having."

Kurt laughs, delighted. It's snowing just a bit, and the snowflakes keep clinging to his impossibly long eyelashes and to the stupid feather of his hat. He looks tempting, Sebastian thinks, not for the first time wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. It seems almost fitting, kissing this boy in this tiny street of Paris, but he doesn't.

"You seem happy," Kurt tells him.

Sebastian shrugs. "I'll deny it with my whole being if you tell him, but I've missed the idiot. I think I may have even missed the cat."

Kurt laughs, looks up at him. "I'm positive the cat is not actually evil, Sebastian."

"You tell me when you see the little monster. He'll fool you with his furry face, but then you'll see that it's like staring at pure evilness in the face."

Kurt rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, just so Sebastian can tell how ridiculous Kurt thinks he's being. "What exactly happened between you two?" Kurt asks after a bit of silence.

Sebastian doesn't say anything for a while, enjoying the way they're walking so close that their hands keep brushing against one another. They're both wearing gloves, and the two layers between them feel like too much and not enough at the same time.

"Are we still on for tomorrow night?" he asks, finally. When Kurt gives him a questioning look, he clarifies, "Drinks and the full story of our surely awful love life?"

"Ah. Yes, of course."

"I'll tell you then."

"Ohh," Kurt says, clapping a little, excited, "Color me intrigued."

Sebastian chuckles, looking at Kurt behave like a five year old. He'd been surprised by Kurt's silly side more than by anything else, perhaps because a part of him had still been holding to the notion of the bitchy Kurt he'd meet back in Lima, but he kind of loves his stupid dances and excited claps.

"You're excited," he says, teasing.

"I do love a good piece of gossip," Kurt says, "and I've heard quite a bit about this Hunter of yours. I can't wait to meet him."

Sebastian groans. "They told you about the Splenda incident, didn't they?"

"Yes," Kurt answers, nodding. "I have to say I agree with him, though. Splenda _does _taste like pencils."

Sebastian laughs, just a little, because _damn _are Kurt and Hunter going to like each other.

"Be sure to tell him that," he says. "You'll have his heart forever."

* * *

Fifteen minutes into their first conversation, Sebastian would swear that Kurt and Hunter are half in love. They click instantly, even when Hunter is obsessively cleaning the counter at the café while Kurt accuses Mr. Puss of being a vile creature.

"He's a cat," Hunter is saying, "of course he's gonna go for the sweater."

Kurt glares, because the first thing the cat had done had been go for Kurt's weird, soft, hole-y sweater that seems to fulfill every purpose _but _keep Kurt warm.

"Maybe it was just an opinion on your fashion sense," Sebastian remarks, smiling.

Kurt sticks his tongue out at him, but says, "I will forgive that remark on my fabulous clothes if you give me free cake." And honestly, the way Kurt is looking at him, earnest eyes and making grabby hands, there's no way Sebastian is going to deny him anything.

"Oh yeah, by the way Hunt," Sebastian asks, once Kurt is happily settled with his cake, "why exactly are you cleaning the place?"

"I was bored," he answers, shrugging, before pointing a finger at where Paulette is serving one of the tables, "she gave me cleaning supplies."

Sebastian looks at Paulette, who shrugs just like Hunter and tells him, "_I'l avait l'air de s'ennuyer_." And honestly, they don't speak each other's language and they have answered the same thing. It's strange, the way Hunter seems to be fitting so seamlessly into his life.

"You should have come for lunch with us," Sebastian tells Hunter, who simply shrugs yet again. He's fixated on a spot of the counter that is so clean Sebastian can nearly see his face in it. Kurt gives him a questioning look, and Sebastian mouths _later._

"You could come have a drink tomorrow, though," Kurt says, "We're taking Tom, so."

Sebastian looks at Kurt and says, "Bet you a drink Tom's gonna fixate on Hunt's lips."

Kurt raises an eyebrow and then takes a minute to appraise Hunter's profile, the sharpness of his cheeks, the hardness of his jaw, and the plump set of his lips. With a sigh, Kurt says, "I'm not making a bet I will lose."

Sebastian laughs a little, and Hunter looks at them both like they've gone a little crazy before going back to his cleaning. Sebastian gives him a worried look, and Kurt must notice, because he's looking at Hunter too, hands busy with the rag. Something must tick for him, too, because he holds his fork tighter in his hand and presses his other free one to the counter, as if willing them to stay still.

"Anyway," Sebastian says, trying to break the standstill, "I should get some work done this afternoon."

"And I should go to the theater," Kurt says, pressing his elbow to the table and supporting his head on his hand. He whines, "I don't wanna."

"You want to, uh, come up for a bit?" Sebastian asks, looking at anything but Kurt because he doesn't know how to make the offer sound innocent. Honestly, he just wants Kurt to stay for a while longer, and he wants him to see the apartment, because it is just as tiny and charming as the café and Kurt's going to love it. Still, in his mind, it sounds like an offer for sex. Which, yeah, okay, maybe not the last thing on Sebastian's mind, but not the first either.

Still, Kurt answers with a soft smile, saying, "Sure, yes, just for a bit."

* * *

The first thing Kurt fixates on is the view of the street from the big window that lights up the place. Sebastian loves that window and sitting by it with a good book and a glass of wine, and is surprised when Kurt points out _I can picture you reading here _almost wistfully.

Sebastian sits down on the couch and lets Kurt do his investigating. There's not a lot to see, but the apartment does have a bit of a dramatic quality to it, with its dark wood and books all around. There's a little desk with Sebastian's work computer, and now that Hunter's put some order, his laptop is set up right next to it. Sebastian had dared to open it just last night, had gone to his folder named _unfinished stuff and ideas _and had let the documents there glare at him accusingly. He barely remembers everything that's in there, even if he remembers how there was a time in his life in which he wrote down every little idea that came to mind.

Sebastian's not exactly sure at which point he gave up on his writing, how he went from having words pouring out of him to having nothing to say, but the thought is unsettling. He's going to re-read everything in that folder, and he's going to be honest with himself and discard stuff and keep stuff and work around his own fears. He's promised himself that he's going to, but he doesn't know where to start just yet.

"You're spacing out on me, Sebastian."

Sebastian snaps, looking up and at Kurt, and smiles softly. "Yeah, sorry." He breathes in, and then, "So, you like it?"

"It's lovely," Kurt says, "Although I'm glad I came after Hunter put some order in here."

"Well, I'll have you know my unorganized piles of books were very romantic and bohemian."

Kurt snorts. "Yeah, that excuse is probably worse than when Finn tried to convince my dad that his room was organized but that he was the only one who could understand the order."

"I was happy with it, anyway, but you just can't leave Hunter alone in a messy place."

"Yeah, about that…" Kurt starts, letting the sentence linger in the air.

"OCD," Sebastian tells him, simple and fast. He doesn't know if Kurt will see himself reflected in his words, if he's ever acknowledged his little quirks as something more than that, but Sebastian knows that walking on his tiptoes around the subject won't do them any good. "It gets better sometimes, but I think he's in a bad place right now."

Kurt nods and his smile gets tight, but he doesn't say anything. He's not going to talk about it, Sebastian knows, and maybe it's better like this. Maybe Kurt should talk to Hunter, anyway, if he wants to talk to anyone at all.

"Right, yeah," Kurt says, dismissing the subject almost immediately by turning towards an old open closet right by the window. "This doesn't look too organized," he points out.

"That's my mom's stuff," Sebastian explains, "Hunt didn't want to mess with that."

Kurt doesn't answer, instead he bites his lower lip and takes a step closer to the closet. It's mostly knick knacks and some old clothes, but Sebastian can't bear to part with them. The whole apartment is scattered with pictures of her, too, but Sebastian thinks he has the right to cling to his memories of her.

Kurt's looking at his mom's favorite dress, a white and blue classic one Sebastian remembers her wearing at his graduation.

"She loved that dress," he says. He's not looking at Kurt but at the window, where the street is busy and loud. He can tell that Kurt is looking at him, waiting for him to continue. Sebastian never talks about his mother, but after unloading to Kurt the other day, he feels free to do so now. "She used to say that she was always wearing the same thing when we took pictures, but she couldn't bear getting rid of it or not wearing the thing. I think dad sort of hated it, but she looked beautiful. She always did, anyway. It's silly keeping it, but." He shrugs, stops there. He doesn't really know how to finish that sentence.

"It's not silly, Sebastian." Kurt's voice is soft but sure, and when Sebastian looks back at him, his eyes are a little bright. He doesn't say anything else, though, doesn't tell him that he understands, doesn't offer meaningless platitudes or shares a similar story about his own mother. He just looks at him, unblinking, sure in his statement that missing his mom is not something silly. Sebastian's pretty sure he's never wanted anyone this bad. And it's this foreign feeling of wanting Kurt, just wanting him thoroughly and deeply that fills him up from head to toe. It's not just wanting to hook up, but wanting _Kurt. _

"Sebastian," Kurt says, so soft he almost misses it, "you're staring."

Sebastian nods. He's staring, and he's going to stand up and walk towards Kurt and kiss him and never let him go. He breathes out, as if exhausted, and right when he's starting to move up from the couch the door to the apartment opens and Hunter stumbles in.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he says right before throwing himself on the couch and face planting on Sebastian's crotch.

Sebastian takes one longing look at Kurt, who is now blushing furiously and looking down at his own shoes, before saying, "Hunt, your face on my crotch doesn't really help your not even remotely bisexual case."

"Shut up, I'm comfy."

Sebastian groans. Honestly, sometimes he's befuddled by the people he chooses to like. He's considering smacking Hunter's head when Kurt coughs, and without looking directly at Sebastian starts putting on his coat and fixing his scarf.

"I should go," he says, "see you both tomorrow?"

"Sure," Sebastian says, nodding.

Kurt says goodbye with a small wave, wiggling his fingers just a bit before walking out of the apartment. Once he's left, Sebastian sighs, already too deflated to either smack Hunter or call him an idiot.

"So what's the deal here?" Hunter says after a bit, turning around so he can look up at Sebastian, "You in love with Kurt?"

Sebastian bites the inside of his mouth, represses his urge to sigh or groan or run away after Kurt and go back to that moment in which kissing had seemed like the only option. Instead, he smacks Hunter's forehead, and says, "You're an idiot."

* * *

A/N:

First of all, thanks so much for your lovely comments!

I just wanted to let you know I won't be updating at all next week, because I have a work related trip.


	6. Chapter 6

Next day, they pick Kurt up at the theater, right after his show, and as they stand outside in the cold, Sebastian wonders why they didn't just go and _see_ the show. Sebastian's been wanting to for a while now, but maybe he's reluctant to be a willing participant of something that seems to be draining Kurt of his life energy. On the other hand, he can't help but want to see Kurt on a stage.

Kurt spots them the moment he comes out of the building, probably because Tom is swinging back and forth nervously on his heels.

"Will you stop that?" Hunter chastises suddenly. "You're making me nervous."

"Sorry, sorry, yeah," says Tom immediately. "I'm just excited. We got Sebastian out of the café at this hour of the night; this is _epic_."

"Really?" is the first thing Kurt says when he reaches them. He looks at Sebastian, mirth in his eyes, and says, "Last I remember you were all about the night life."

"Let's not go back to our Scandals days, princess," Sebastian retorts. "Besides, I live for change, just so I can keep you on your toes."

Kurt chuckles, stepping closer to the three of them as he says, "Sebastian, you literally _live at a coffee shop_."

Sebastian has to laugh. "Screw you, Hummel." He throws his head back a little, remembers Kurt's annoyed face at his constant presence at the Lima Bean back in their teenage years. It's amazing how much of their little time spent together they both seem to remember.

"Can we go now?" Hunter asks, his fingers drumming a nervous beat against his own chest. "Or aren't you two done flirting?"

Tom chuckles, and Sebastian throws Hunter a nasty look. They say nothing, though, and simply start walking, Kurt right at Sebastian's side. They don't look at each other, but just as always, their hands touch softly as they walk.

* * *

They go to a nice bar, where the music is low enough that they can hear each other and where the alcohol is expensive but good. Sebastian's been here before, and he likes the place because the music is always old jazz standards and classic French vocalists, instead of the weird French rap most places seem to favor. It makes Sebastian feel a little old, but early into the night, Kurt had called it classy, so Sebastian is sticking with that idea.

Both of them are sitting on one of the small couches that line the walls of the place, only illuminated by a low lamp on the little table before them. They're sitting closer than necessary, thighs pressed together and shoulders bumping as they speak softly while Hunter fights the crowd for a drink and Tom charms a group of girls nearby.

"Alright," Sebastian says, "why the hell am I dating this dude relationship."

Kurt lifts an eyebrow slowly, as if he's been rehearsing the movement, and looks steadily at Sebastian. He's had three glasses of wine already, and his cheeks are a little pink. Sebastian is well on his way to getting drunk, but the wine is good and he feels warm and comfy, so he takes a sip of his half full glass anyway.

"Did you just say _dude_?" Kurt asks, crinkling his nose in distaste.

Sebastian laughs, nodding and pressing a finger to Kurt's nose, just because he can. Kurt bats his hand away, huffing.

"Well?" Sebastian prompts. They've chosen to tell their respective romantic stories by way of asking simple questions, almost as if they're playing a game. It seems to Sebastian that they're saving the heavy loaded questions for later, seeing as they've only talked about infatuations and one-date relationships that never went anywhere.

"James Collins," Kurt says finally, answering his previous question. "He was an arrogant, snobbish jerk who insulted waiters for a hobby and who caused fights wherever he went and when asked about it said it was _his thing. _It lasted two whole weeks," Kurt says, lifting two fingers up and right in front of Sebastian's eyes, "and let me tell you, that was two weeks too long."

Sebastian smiles, wiggles both eyebrows and asks, "So what's the _real _reason you dated that guy?"

"I was giving him a chance, of course," Kurt says, lifting his nose up self-importantly and nodding. Sebastian just gives him a steady look that seems to tell Kurt just how much he isn't fooling Sebastian. "Ok, ok," Kurt concedes, "the sex was really good," he breathes out, soft and low as if embarrassed.

Sebastian chuckles softly, touching his glass to Kurt's and saying, "It's good to know you can be shallow, princess."

Kurt blushes, the color pretty on his cheeks and looking darker than usual under the low light of the place. He takes a long swallow of his drink, not looking at Sebastian.

"Fine, ok, now you," Kurt says after a bit. Sebastian looks at him, expectant, and Kurt continues. "How about… dating this guy will please my dad relationship."

Sebastian groans, lets his head fall down and rest on the back of the couch. He closes his eyes, presses them hard together and only opens them up when he feels Kurt's fingers sliding over his knuckles. Kurt taps them three times, and Sebastian turns his hand around and grasps them in a soft grip.

"You don't have to talk about that if you don't want to," Kurt says.

Of course he doesn't have to, but Sebastian has discovered that not talking to Kurt is not a realistic option. He hasn't disclosed this much information about himself ever, to anyone, and maybe that's why he has such a hard time connecting to people, because he never takes the time to just talk. The fact that he's as interested in talking to Kurt as he's in getting him naked certainly says a lot about what's going on between them.

"I wish there was just one of those," Sebastian says finally. "Not that they were ever relationships, mind you, only dates so dad would shut up."

"Did you hate them all?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian shrugs. "I may have liked all of them if I had tried, who knows? But having the daddy approved seal sort of made me hate them on principle."

"That bad?"

"Not really. Mostly, he just doesn't care." Sebastian shrugs yet again, looking at Kurt's bright eyes. "When I was a teenager," Sebastian starts, "I'd do stupid things just to piss him off, but it wouldn't matter. He's just indifferent most of the time. We don't really talk much at all nowadays."

Kurt twists his mouth, like the thought of an uncaring father is incomprehensible. Sebastian guesses that it must be hard for him to understand, since what little he's heard of Burt Hummel has been nothing but wonderful. Kurt opens his mouth, ready to answer, when Hunter plops down next to him on the couch, carrying four drinks that he places on the table before dropping all of his weight on the back of the couch.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asks, smiling and lifting both eyebrows.

It is only then that Sebastian notices how Kurt and him are sitting, nearly curled into each other, their hands tangled and resting on the place where their thighs meet. What surprises him the most is how easily they seem to fall into these patterns of closeness, mostly because he would have never pegged Kurt for the touchy-feely type.

He spaces out for a second, his eyes focused on their tangled hands, and when he looks back up, Kurt is smacking Hunter on the back of the head while Hunter whines about being so badly treated after bringing them drinks and everything. Sebastian smiles at both of them, probably a little stupidly, because he's pleasantly buzzed and he feels content for the first time in what feels like ages.

"So, Hunt, tell us," Kurt says after a bit, "what's the weirdest relationship you've ever had?"

Hunter hums, looking up pensively, but Sebastian speaks for him, "Please, say you never dated anyone weirder than Crazy Monica."

"Oh, fuck, Crazy Monica!" Hunter exclaims, looking at him with a smile. "I think I may have repressed her to avoid the trauma."

"Explain, explain! Who's Crazy Monica?" Kurt chimes, jumping a little in his seat.

"My first girlfriend," says Hunter, turning to look at Kurt with a bit of a mad smile on his lips, "I'm pretty sure she was convinced she was a vampire. Five weirdest months of my life."

"Five months?" Kurt exclaims, "Why would you date her for _five months_?"

"Honestly? I went to military school and then to an all male preppy school packed with gay guys. My only criteria back then was _will let me touch her boobs."_

"Ugh, you're a pig," Kurt accuses.

Hunter lifts both eyebrows, looking first at Kurt and then at Sebastian. "I'm friends with Sebastian, what did you expect?"

Sebastian gasps, mock-offended, and brings a hand to his chest. "What are you implying, you fiend?" he says, half mocking a terrible British accent. "I would never date someone on the basis that they'd let me touch anything." He receives near identical _oh, please _looks from both of them. "What? I said I'd never _date _them, I didn't say anything about fuc–"

"Please stop right there," Kurt says, lifting a hand and rolling his eyes, "I was starting to like you, don't ruin it."

"You adore me, princess, don't think you're fooling anybody with your ice queen routine."

Kurt huffs, lifting his nose up in the air in that way he has that Sebastian is actually starting to like. "I can't be both a princess and a queen, Sebastian, you better make up your mind."

"Ok-ay," Hunter interrupts before Sebastian can retort, "I'm gonna leave you two lovebirds to your weird-ass flirting and try and take advantage of Tom's mad game."

Sebastian chuckles, watching as Hunter stands up and goes towards Tom, who's currently surrounded by what seems to be an ever growing group of girls. When Sebastian looks back, Kurt's giving him a look he's never seen before, and he doesn't know quite how to qualify.

"What?" he asks.

"Aww," Kurt says, "you've _really _missed him." Sebastian just shrugs, not admitting for one second just how right Kurt is in his statement. "So, are you going to tell me that story?" he asks suddenly. "You promised."

"Isn't it my turn to ask?"

"Later. Now, gossip!"

"Christ, you're a demanding little thing, princess."

Kurt sticks his tongue out at him, and then, in a fast movement, changes both their empty glasses for the two full ones Hunter has left for them. Sebastian drinks, just a little sip, and then leaves the glass back on the table. He takes a minute to look at Kurt in his too tight pants and fitted vest, focusing his eyes on the visible skin of his neck and collarbones, previously covered by a scarf that's now somewhere on the couch. When he finally looks up and into Kurt's eyes, he feels more than ready to confess anything, and he doesn't even find it in himself to wonder why.

"Hunter's basically the only friend I've ever had," he says, finally. He thinks that sentence might be a good way to start a book. "We didn't see much of each other when I moved here, though, so I didn't really know a lot of what was going on with his life, and I was so preoccupied with my own problems that I just, sort of, I don't know. It's hard to explain."

Kurt lifts a single eyebrow, and looking at him with big eyes, says, "You acted like a selfish prick?"

Sebastian snorts. "Harsh, babe."

Kurt scrunches up his nose, frowning a little at him. "I think I prefer princess to babe." Sebastian goes to say something, but Kurt stops him by pushing his hand into his shoulder, and saying, "So? What horrible thing did you do to end your longtime friendship?"

"I slept with him," Sebastian deadpans. "After my mom died," he clarifies, voice going soft for a second, and one hand rubbing at his eyes. It's not an easy time to remember, honestly. On the other hand, he's never talked about this to anyone, and in between the wine and Kurt's hand squeezing his own, he can't say he doesn't feel liberated.

"Oh, Sebastian, you don't have to–"

"Shh, it's ok." Sebastian presses his thumb to Kurt's lips, shushing him effectively. His skin is soft, a little dry from the cold, and Sebastian thinks that maybe it would be better to kiss Kurt and forget about retelling stories from their past. He's conflicted, though, wanting to hear everything about Kurt, wanting to tell him everything about himself, and too afraid to kiss him because they're doomed to separation.

He moves away, watches Kurt lick his lips after his finger is gone, and breathes in deeply. Before he can think any more about kissing Kurt's stupid, pretty lips, he continues his story.

"He was seeing someone, and _I _was seeing someone, but we were drunk and I was devastated, and he'd been having some troubles with his stupid family and his girlfriend and it was all a lot of bad decisions piled up together, honestly." Sebastian shrugs. "You're not supposed to sleep with your straight best friend, no matter the circumstances."

"Wow, aren't you clever, Sebastian?"

Sebastian smiles, pushes at Kurt's shoulder playfully. "I'm baring my soul for you here, princess, don't mock me."

"Fine, fine," Kurt concedes, lifting both hands up as if backing off. "So what happened?" he asks. "Huge fight, I assume."

"Yeah." Sebastian nods. "About life choices, and me being a coward, and selfish, and an idiot, and about Hunter molding his life to his parents' wishes, and his OCD and how much we generally suck at being friends."

Kurt cringes, like he can feel the pain himself. "And have you talked about it?"

"Not really. We probably will. God, do we really have to?" Sebastian finds himself whining. It's true he hasn't questioned Hunter's presence back in his life too much, happy to ignore their problems back in the day and to have his friend back. A part of him is secretly hoping that they can glide over any serious conversations, if only not to upset the fragile balance they have acquired in the past few days.

Kurt is nodding at him, his eyes bright in the low light. He's probably right, but Sebastian has always been terrible at facing his own feelings, and he doesn't want to push Hunter into painful discussions.

They stay silent for a bit then, drinking slowly and alternately squeezing each other's hand in some kind of silent reassurance. Kurt is the one to break the silence, moving closer to Sebastian and asking right against his ear:

"So was the sex any good?"

Sebastian laughs, surprised by the question, and looks at Kurt with a smile on his lips. "My, my, how scandalous you are tonight, Mr. Hummel. I'm going to have to get you drunk more often."

"I'm not drunk!" Kurt whines, taking a sip of his drink as if to make a point. When he lowers the glass, he looks at Sebastian expectantly, and asks, "So? Was it?"

Sebastian shrugs. "It wasn't terrible. You know, for a drunken straight guy."

"Ooh, I'm telling him you said that."

"Don't you dare, princess," Sebastian warns, pointing a menacing finger Kurt's way.

"Or what?" Kurt asks, challenging.

"I'll tickle you to death."

"What? You wouldn't–oh my God, Sebastian!" Kurt shrieks, so high-pitched and loud that Sebastian's sure they have attracted an audience. He doesn't care, though, not when he has his hands on Kurt's sides and is tickling him for all his worth, Kurt's laughter surrounding his senses completely. He looks at Kurt, smiling at his eyes full of laugh lines and at his hands, unsuccessfully trying to battle his own, and dear _God, _he's already half in love with this man and he doesn't know how he's going to stop himself from falling deeper.

"Oh, God, oh God, stop Sebastian, please, stop!" Kurt whines, and Sebastian can tell that he's laughed so much that it already hurts, so he stops. He doesn't move away though. Instead, he rests his now steady hands on Kurt's waist and looks at him. They're both breathing hard, and so, _so _close. After a minute, Kurt murmurs, "God, I hate you."

Sebastian just smiles, doesn't even bother to tell Kurt how he knows that statement to be a lie. They stay silent, almost at a standstill, and Sebastian knows if he moves just a bit they'll be kissing. The thought is entirely too tempting, much more so with Kurt's hands resting on his arms and with his collarbones exposed. He smells good, and he feels good in his arms, and the only reason Sebastian is stopping himself from doing something about their closeness is the uncertainty of what exactly they're supposed to be doing here. Kurt's going to be leaving soon, and Sebastian doesn't know if he'll be able to take it if they get any more tangled than they already are.

Sebastian licks his lips, breathing in and out slowly, and starts talking just so he can pretend that there's nothing going on.

"Even though I probably know the answer to this one," he says, "love of your life?"

"Blaine," he whispers, fast and low, and Sebastian notices that Kurt's lips curl way more prettily when it's his own name leaving them. "But let's not," Kurt starts, "let's not talk about him tonight." Kurt moves his hand up as he's saying this, from its place on Sebastian's bicep to the back of his neck. Sebastian can barely breathe, even when Kurt only touches his skin once he's on his neck. "Love of _your _life," Kurt says, then.

"Gerard," Sebastian breathes out. It takes that single whisper for them to start moving away. They settle back into their initial spots, Kurt's fingers lingering for just a bit on Sebastian's neck. "He was older, a literature teacher at La Sorbonne and I was stupidly in love, even if he loved mocking me," Sebastian says. "I hadn't thought about him in ages."

Kurt hums, squeezes the hand he hasn't released at any point during the night. "I bet he spoke to your inner literary snob."

"I'm _not_ a literary snob," Sebastian replies, mock-offended.

"_Please,_" Kurt says, rolling his eyes, "You spent a whole hour lecturing us on Ray Bradbury and George Orwell the other day when Ginette said she liked The Hunger Games. I think you traumatized her."

"I mean, _come on, _if we're going to be talking about dystopian futures and–"

"We're not going to be talking about dystopian futures, we're gossiping. Get with the program."

Sebastian chuckles, says, "Wanna know a secret?"

"Of course, don't you know me at all?"

Sebastian looks around him, as if ready to reveal something terrible, and whispers, "I secretly loved The Hunger Games."

Kurt chuckles, happy, and says, "You're an idiot."

"Hey, if you reveal that I will be forced to tickle you again. Be warned."

"Oh no, not the tickling again," Kurt says, putting the back of his hand to his forehead and overdramatizing his expression. Once he's settled down, he looks at Sebastian, expectant.

Sebastian lifts both eyebrows, and continues their mutual interrogation with, "Biggest regret?"

Kurt answers in less than a second. "Adam," he says. "I was too hung up on Blaine and I let it fizzle out. He was British and perfect and he thought I looked like Paul Newman. Who lets go of the guy who thinks you look like Paul Newman?"

"The guy obsessed with his high school sweetheart?" Sebastian wonders, and when Kurt pouts at him, playful but a little sad, he says, "No Blaine tonight, sorry." He moves closer and presses a small kiss to Kurt's temple. When he moves away, they're close yet again, and Kurt is looking up at him with his big, blue eyes.

"Best sex ever?" Kurt asks, low and soft.

Sebastian shrugs, small, and can't help but bring his hand up to Kurt's cheek, press his fingers there softly. "Hard to say. Are we talking feelings or technique here?" He stops to breathe in slowly, watches as Kurt bites his lower lip, bright from the wine he's drunk. "I prefer to think that there's always better sex to be had."

"Right, of course," Kurt breathes out.

It's almost impossible not to lean in, but Sebastian manages it. He stays put, just for a second, breathing Kurt's scent in, before he moves away enough so that his senses aren't invaded. Kurt seems to not want him to get away, though, since he moves closer yet again and arranges himself on the couch until he can rest his head on Sebastian's chest. He snuggles close, and Sebastian can't bring himself to push him away.

"I don't want to play this game anymore," Kurt says. "Let's just… relax and drink."

"Yeah," Sebastian whispers. "Let's just relax and drink."


	7. Chapter 7

It's nearly three in the morning when they leave the bar, Tom hanging between Hunter and Sebastian and dragging his feet halfheartedly. "You're so pretty," he's saying, his speech just the little bit slurred, "and your friends are soooo pretty. Is that how you choose them?" He's looking at Sebastian while trying to poke his cheek, missing spectacularly.

"Oh, definitely," Sebastian answers, matter-of-factly. "There's an audition and everything."

Kurt chuckles next to him, punches his shoulder softly when Tom begins to nod enthusiastically and to babble about complicated audition processes. They're all a little tipsy, though, so when Tom's longwinded and drunken speech ends, they end up walking in silence through the cold streets. The wind seems to sober Tom up a little, but Sebastian doesn't let him go home on his own, and instead tells him to spend the night on his couch.

"You're staying, too," Sebastian says, reaching out towards Kurt when he makes as if to walk in a different direction.

"My hotel is just a couple of blocks away from here."

Sebastian shakes his head, finishes the movement of his arm to wrap his hand around Kurt's wrist. "I don't want to feel responsible if you die in some dark Parisian alley, Kurt."

Kurt blinks, parts his lips as if to say something, but it's Hunter who speaks first, saying, "It's ok, Kurt, Bas has a huge bed. You can share."

Sebastian glares at him, stops himself from looking at Kurt and the possible blush that may be staining his cheeks. His glare proves ineffective, though, when Tom snickers loudly next to him and says, "Hah. That was a sexual tension joke. Because of all the… sexual tension."

"_Thank you, Thomas; _that was enlightening."

"Ooh," Tom says, looking at Hunter with his eyes wide open, "he called me _Thomas. _That's _bad._"

Hunter is too busy laughing to say anything, though, so Sebastian just forces the group to keep walking, happy to ignore both Kurt's protest and any other innuendo coming from the other two.

* * *

When they arrive home, they drop a nearly asleep Tom on the couch, cover him with a thick blanket, and leave him there to sleep it off.

"I should have gone back to the hotel," Kurt says once again, his eyes moving involuntarily towards the two already occupied rooms in the apartment.

"You know what?" Sebastian starts, "I think I'm going down to the café and let Ginette go home early. I'm too wired to sleep."

It's true, too. Sebastian's mind is reeling a little, as if filled with noise. Sleep is definitely the last thing on his mind right now, and a quiet late night shift at the café accompanied by a cigarette in the cold sounds like the thing to do.

"You don't have to do that," Kurt says, reaching out towards him, his still gloved fingers touching the inside of Sebastian's wrist. "I can just–"

Sebastian doesn't let him finish, doesn't want to know if Kurt's going to say _I can just go back to the hotel _or _I can just share your bed. _He doesn't know which option is more terrifying, to be honest.

"It's ok, really," Sebastian says, smiling a little. He turns his hand around, moves it until the tips of his fingers are touching Kurt's. "You'll like my room," he says, pointedly ignoring Hunter wiggling his eyebrows at him. "Borrow some clothes if you want. Hunter can probably tell you where they are," he says, clarifying after a beat, "I don't understand his system."

Hunter stops his wiggling to huff indignantly. "My system is perfect," he says, "Everything is color coded."

Sebastian sees Kurt smile at Hunter and nod, as if approving, and says, "I don't see how that's any better than _my _system."

"Bas, putting your clothes on a chair until they topple over is not actually a system."

"Hunter has a point," Kurt says.

"I knew introducing you two was not a good idea," he says, even when something warm spreads over him when Hunter and Kurt smile softly at each other. "Anyway, I'll be downstairs. Please make sure Tom doesn't die in his sleep."

Sebastian goes downstairs hastily, not even taking his coat off and choosing to do so at the café, just so the other two don't utter another protest. There are no customers in sight, so there's only Ginette softly caressing Mr. Puss, who is sleeping contentedly on the counter. He tells her to go home, and she takes the opportunity without question, quickly pulling her coat on in the beginnings of a hasty escape.

"I don't know what's up with you, 'Bastian," she says on her way out, "but I like it."

Sebastian just smiles a little at her, feels his eyes crinkle in a weird state of happiness that the wine is only half responsible for.

"I think I'm just… happy," Sebastian says, surprised that the concept seems like something completely foreign to him.

Ginette laughs a little, small, and goes back a few steps just so she can stand on her tiptoes and press a soft kiss to Sebastian's cheek. "I think you're in love," she whispers.

When she leaves, letting the cold night air inside the café, Sebastian hasn't said a word, and he's still smiling.

There is nothing to do in the empty café, but Sebastian still feels a little tipsy, so he steps outside and smokes a cigarette in the cold January air. It's dark and quiet outside, but his mind still feels full of noise. He thinks it may have something to do with Kurt, with everything they talked about tonight. Sebastian's never been the nostalgic type when it comes to relationships, and taking a stroll down memory lane for Kurt has been weird in a way, but also liberating.

He thinks of Gerard, the only man he had ever truly loved, what feels like ages ago. It had been a good fit for him, he guesses, a mature, intelligent professor to deal with his restlessness and focus it on something productive. Gerard had pushed him into writing as much as he had mocked his style, his childishness, his inherent cockiness. His mother had despised him, had kept telling Sebastian that there was nothing but condescendence in Gerard's tone. And maybe it had been true, but Sebastian had loved him. It's strange thinking about him now, when he can't find in Gerard any of the warmth Kurt has.

Still, Kurt pushes, too.

Sebastian finishes his cigarette silently, and goes back inside the café. It's warm and comfortable, cozy in a way that speaks of family. It's not enough. It's heartbreaking to think that, but Sebastian knows that it's the truth.

Sebastian gnaws at his lip, unsure, and then, as if in a frenzy, grabs one of the napkins that has the café's name on it, clicks his pen alive, and writes down _Hunter's basically the only friend I've ever had. _It doesn't sound as perfect now as it had a few hours ago with a mind full of wine, so he changes it for _Hunter Clarington was the only friend I ever had. _It sounds like a beginning.

He looks at his loopy handwriting for a minute, and then pins the napkin on the wall, right next to the few pictures he put there at some point or another. He looks at it, and laughs softly. It's not perfect, and it could mean nothing at all, but it feels like a triumph, a few words that could be the beginning of something larger, of a story he could tell. He has the feeling it would be a too personal story, the kind he's been running away from since mom died just because they are still too painful to write about.

Sebastian thinks of Kurt. He thinks of him saying that it's not silly to miss his mom, and thinks that maybe it's not silly to be afraid of pouring too personal words on a paper. So maybe he has something here. Maybe those few words on that napkin are the beginning of a story about himself, his mom, Hunter, and everything else in between. Maybe, he thinks, maybe those words are the beginning of a story about Kurt.

* * *

It's a quiet night, but when Paulette shows up for her morning shift, she takes one look at Sebastian's tired face and sends him upstairs with a stern look and a clear order to get some sleep. He complies, pressing a kiss to her temple before trudging upstairs, his steps heavy.

He throws his coat on a nearby chair, even if he knows he'll be risking Hunter's wrath, and sits against the back of the couch, seeing as Tom is still snoring on it. The soft morning light is hitting him right on the face, but he's oblivious to the world. Sebastian sags a little, tired, and rubs his eyes with his hands. When he moves them away, he finds Kurt there.

Kurt's wearing Sebastian's clothes, a pair of simple grey sweatpants and a faded Mickey Mouse t-shirt Sebastian can't bear to part with. Something jumps inside Sebastian, and he doesn't know if it's his stomach going to his throat or his heart trying to break away from his ribcage.

"Hey," he murmurs, soft.

"Hi," Kurt counters, just as softly. He's standing not two steps away from Sebastian, carding his hand through his messy hair, and he looks sleepy.

Sebastian coughs, smiles just a bit. "Where's Hunt?"

"He went running. He said it calms him."

Sebastian nods. "Yeah, I remember."

That's all he says, not really wanting to get into the fact that Hunter's running is always a sign of his distress. He thinks Kurt may have been right last night when he said he needs to talk to Hunter, but he's too tired to think about that particular complicated relationship right now.

He's not too tired to look at Kurt, though. Kurt, who's standing there wearing his clothes, who has just slept on his bed, who looks sleepy and warm, and who is teasing him with the possibility of this being a familiar view. He wonders if it would always be as easy as this, a rumpled and sleepy Kurt waking up next to him. He thinks it could, in a way, and it's almost too much to bear.

He thinks they're doomed. They're unstable and they don't know what to do with their lives and Sebastian can hardly ask Kurt to leave everything behind and move to Paris for something that may not work. It doesn't matter how wonderful he thinks they could be, or what seeing Kurt in his apartment wearing his clothes is doing to him. At the end of the day, Sebastian needs to let go.

"Sebastian, you're staring," Kurt says, soft. He's close, so close, at arm's reach, and Sebastian doesn't have enough arguments to make him step away, or to bring him closer. "You stare a lot."

Sebastian smiles, looks at Kurt's impossibly blue eyes. "I know," he says. "You're wearing my Mickey Mouse t-shirt."

Kurt smiles, too, tugs at the hem of the t-shirt. "I like it."

"I like it, too."

Sebastian isn't prepared for Kurt stepping closer, easily moving between his parted legs and pressing his chest to Sebastian's. He's been so worried about what to do, that not once has he considered Kurt moving of his own accord, and the sudden closeness of his eyes is startling. With Sebastian resting against the back of the couch, they're pretty much the same height, and if Sebastian moves the smallest bit, they're going to be kissing. They don't, not yet, but Kurt moves his hands up, presses them warm and sure on Sebastian's cheeks, framing his face.

"Stop staring already, Sebastian," Kurt murmurs, and Sebastian doesn't have time to contemplate the lovely sound on his name on Kurt's tongue before they're kissing.

Kurt's lips are soft and warm, and they part easily under Sebastian's. They kiss slow and sweet, Sebastian's hands finding purchase on Kurt's back, right under the faded t-shirt where Kurt's skin is warm from sleep. It's almost familiar, even if Sebastian feels hazy, almost dizzy with Kurt filling all of his senses.

They break apart, and then they kiss again, harder and deeper and pressing as close together as they can, their arms around each other and Kurt pushing up on his tiptoes when Sebastian moves from his place on the couch. Sebastian wonders, briefly, when he started being so afraid of everything that he almost missed this. He thanks Kurt silently for his pushiness, and wraps his arms tight around him, not willing to let go.

They make their way to the bed on unsteady feet, laughing against each other's lips when they nearly crash against a small table. When they drop down on it, limbs everywhere, they're still attached at the mouth, lips fervent but soft. It's Kurt who breaks away first, and he seems to do so only so he can look down and into Sebastian's eyes. Sebastian just looks back, his gaze unwavering even when Kurt trails his hands up Sebastian's arms, pushing them above his head and tangling their hands together.

"Hi," Kurt whispers, so soft that if Sebastian wasn't so close, he wouldn't have heard him.

"Hey," Sebastian replies, mimicking their earlier hellos.

Kurt keeps just looking, and Sebastian thinks that if he could travel back in time he'd go and slap himself for doubting this so much. No matter what the future holds, there's no excuse for not having Kurt as close as he can for as long as he can.

Kurt starts gnawing at his lower lip, and Sebastian reaches up and kisses him, brings his tortured lip out of the hold of Kurt's teeth with his tongue. "You ok?" he wonders.

"Yeah," Kurt answers, breathy and with a smile. "I just think my inner seventeen year old is freaking out a little."

Sebastian laughs, and can't help but smirk when he says, "I think my inner seventeen year old is cackling with smug delight."

Kurt huffs, and lets one hand escape their tangle of fingers just so he can hit Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian laughs yet again, and stops only when Kurt kisses him again. They kiss, and then they kiss some more, and Sebastian feels Kurt hard against him, gets hard himself. He's not in a hurry to do anything about it, though, content to just explore Kurt's mouth and give into his own tiredness between his arms.

Sebastian does let his hands wander, though, pressing them to the small of Kurt's back and moving them down until they're resting on the curve on his ass. Kurt's hands are busy too, his smart fingers moving under Sebastian's shirt in slow patterns. They move easily together, slow as molasses, tangled in a way that feels as natural as the rest of their relationship so far has. There's an easiness to them that Sebastian doesn't remember feeling with anyone before, and no matter how tired he feels, he doesn't want to stop kissing just yet.

They do stop, though, but only when Hunter barges into the room wondering, "Hey, Kurt, want some break–oh, my God!" he exclaims, and Sebastian looks up to see him covering his eyes with one arm and waving the other one in front of him. "Please say no one's naked."

Sebastian has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Still, he says, "Sorry to say, Hunt, but everyone's naked. Really, _really _na–"

"Okay! I'm going. I'm leaving to… I'm just going to be somewhere else."

Hunter closes the door sharply on them, and when Sebastian laughs, Kurt pinches his side viciously.

"Ow! Hey!" he whines.

"That was mean," Kurt says.

"Hey, who knows? Maybe someone _will _be naked soon," Sebastian says, stopping in the middle of the sentence when he's overcome by an unstoppable yawn. God, he's tired.

"That was so sexy," Kurt dead-pans. "Honest, yawning is a total turn on for me," he continues, a mischievous smile crossing his features.

"Shut up," Sebastian counters. "I didn't get any sleep."

Kurt's voice goes softer when he replies, "I know. You should."

"Don't go."

Kurt doesn't go, instead kissing him yet again, his lips wet and slow, and his arms wrapping around Sebastian so he's lying on top of him, as if trying to coax him to sleep. He's not sure when he falls asleep, but he feels Kurt murmur _sleep, Sebastian _after pressing a last long kiss to his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

Sebastian wakes up to a warm, if empty, bed. It's late afternoon, and the light that comes from the window is already dying, so he guesses Kurt must have left for work, and he curses the stupid play with all of his might. When he stands up, though, stretching his arms above his head, he does it with a smile. He closes his eyes, thinks of the line of Kurt's neck, of the shape of his thighs, of the taste of his lips.

Once he's had enough daydreaming that he's starting to feel like the heroine of a romantic novel, he steps into his living room to find Tom anxiously drinking a glass of water, his hair a mess and his clothes rumpled beyond recognition.

"Good morning, sunshine," he says.

Tom flinches, and rasps, "Worst hangover ever, Seb. Never again."

Sebastian chuckles just a little, and leaves Tom to fight his misery in order to get a cup of coffee. Once he has a nice cup of the warm drink, he leans back against the counter and closes his eyes, and it is only a proof of his state of contentment that it takes him almost a full minute to realize that Tom should be downstairs, working.

"Tom, who's at the café?" he asks, mildly panicky while walking back into the living room.

"Your friend Hunter. He offered," Tom says, shrugging his big shoulders. "Guy's a lifesaver, really. And pretty. Think he'll let me paint him?"

Sebastian sighs, looking up as if exasperated. "You're a troubled individual, Tom."

"I just like pretty things," Tom tells him, smiling a bit. "Hunter said you hooked up with Kurt," he continues, "Can I paint _that?_"

Sebastian doesn't even bother with an answer, letting Tom and his hangover alone so he can pull on some clothes and head downstairs.

The café is busy at this time of the day, but everybody seems to be served and happy. Sebastian catches sight of Hunter behind the counter, wearing one of the café's aprons and maniacally cleaning a cup. He watches for a minute, looks at the small twitch of Hunter's busy hands, and then goes to him.

When he sees Sebastian, Hunter looks up briefly, smiles a little awkwardly and then goes back to his cleaning.

"Hi," Hunter says, "hope it's ok I let Tom get some rest."

Sebastian nods, smiles tightly and says, "Sure, of course, no problem."

Hunter hums, a non-committal small sound, and when he seems to be happy with the cup he's holding, he puts it back in its place. He stops just for a second before he's reaching out for Mr. Puss, who is sleeping on the counter, and pushing one hand into his fur. He caresses him softly, one, two, three times, and then grabs a new cup and starts cleaning again.

Sebastian follows the movement of Hunter's hands with his eyes, listens to Hunter matching his breathing to the rhythm of his cleaning. Sebastian bites his lip, not knowing what to do. He's seen Hunter at his worst, and he's never known exactly how to deal with his anxiousness, has always felt inadequate when it comes to helping him.

Sebastian is stopped from wondering farther about Hunter's hands when he sees a customer ask for attention. Hunter looks up, mildly panicked, and then back down at what he must feel is an unclean cup.

"Don't worry," Sebastian says, "I'll get that."

Sebastian dons an apron and gets to work, his body falling easily into the routine that's running the café. He lets Hunter continue his pattern, looking at him from the corner of his eyes and wishing there was something he could do. He's afraid of doing to wrong thing, honestly, but he's also pretty sure he should at least ask about the cause of Hunter's distress.

He waits until the café is fairly empty. Most of the remaining costumers are holding empty cups and plates already, and are simply prolonging their chats in the warmth of the café. Sebastian turns to Hunter, notices that he's started cleaning the same set of cups all over again.

He wonders for a second if he should beat around the bush, be a little casual about this, but at the end of the day, he knows he's always been better at being blunt, so he asks, "Hunt, what's the problem?"

Hunter just shrugs, as if casually dismissing the subject. Except that, of course, there's nothing casual about his body language.

"Hunt, come on."

Hunter doesn't look at him when he says, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, tough, because you kind of have to."

Hunter snorts, says, "Since when are you the talking kind?"

Sebastian flinches at the remark, feels physically rebuked. He knows Hunter can be nasty when he's like this, and he probably shouldn't take it that seriously, but it hurts anyway. They haven't talked seriously since Hunter's arrival, and he doesn't want a repeat of the fight they had years ago. They both have a temper, though, and Sebastian knows that if he doesn't stop and breathe, he's going to say something stupid and offensive.

After a deep breath, Sebastian gathers his wits and instead of saying anything else, he chooses to press his hands against Hunter's, effectively stopping their movement. He feels Hunter's long fingers twitch under his, wonders if he should let them free.

"Please let me go," Hunter says, small and fast, and when he looks up at Sebastian, his eyes are pleading.

Sebastian doesn't let go, mouths, "Hunt, let's talk about this."

"I don't want to talk about it!" Hunter exclaims, his tone dangerously broken. He wrenches his hands away from Sebastian's grip, sending the cup they were holding to the floor. It's shatters there, the crash loud in the near silence of the café.

They both look at it, the broken pieces on the floor, and Sebastian is the first to break the standstill. He moves forward and crouches, starting to pick up the biggest pieces. "Yes, of course," he says, and he can't help but sneer, "let's break things, that's way healthier."

"I can't be here," Hunter mumbles.

Sebastian looks up at him, sees the way Hunter's hands are smoothing his apron manically. "Where are you going to go, Hunt? You don't have any other friends to run to." It takes Sebastian longer than it should to realize how mean he sounds, how mocking his tone feels. He doesn't want to piss Hunter off, doesn't want him to run away, but he also doesn't know how to handle this and he reverts to his worst self without meaning to.

Hunter doesn't do anything for a while, just letting his hands keep smoothing the apron, over and over again. When he finally reacts, though, his face twists angrily, and he bites his lower lip, hard.

"Hunt–" Sebastian begins, stopping when Hunter moves lighting fast, grabbing another cup and throwing it to the floor. It breaks over the pieces of the first one that are still of the floor, near Sebastian's hands. Sebastian looks at it, dumbfounded.

"Fuck you, Sebastian," Hunter says, slow and calm, right before scooping up Mr. Puss and walking away from the café, the apron still firmly tied to his waist. Sebastian doesn't even have time to yell after him.

When Sebastian moves up from behind the counter, the few people still in the café are looking his way, clearly startled by the sound of the breaking cups. He smiles apologetically and shrugs, as if it had been an accident instead of him being too stupid to understand his only friend.

He sighs, covers his face with his hand for a minute before rolling his shoulders back and searching for a broom to clean up the mess.

* * *

By the time Kurt shows up the café, Sebastian has gone through what he's pretty sure is his whole range of emotions. From sad to angered, going through hopeful and resolute, he has no idea where he stands in reference to what just went down with Hunter. Mostly, he just wants to fix it, and he hates that he doesn't know _how. _

It must show, too, since both Paulette and Ginette had taken one look at him and had sat him at one of the tables and given him pie, as if that could fix everything. Even Tom had decided to stick around and help, no matter that his shift is over and his hangover is not completely cured.

There's still half a pie left on his plate when Kurt walks to him, cheeks pink from the cold and smile a little insecure. Sebastian feels relief flooding him the moment he lays eyes on Kurt, and dear _God, _he's stupidly gone for him. He reaches out for him, arms stretched and fingers waving, and Kurt goes to him with no hesitation. Sebastian's sitting down, so he wraps his arms around Kurt's waist and buries his face in his stomach, breathing in the lingering smell of fabric softener on Kurt's coat. When Kurt cards his still gloved fingers through his hair, Sebastian relaxes completely. This is easy, _so _easy, that Sebastian can't even think about letting go.

"I'm afraid to ask," Kurt says above him, his fingers massaging Sebastian's scalp softly.

Sebastian doesn't really know what to say, not being used to looking for comfort in other people. At the end of the day, though, he's pretty much spilled all his thoughts to Kurt, so it can't hurt to let go completely.

Sebastian moves his head so it's his chin resting on Kurt's stomach, and looks up at his eyes. "I had a fight with Hunter," he says after a long exhalation, "or something," he clarifies. "I'm not sure what happened exactly, but I think I screwed up somehow."

Kurt doesn't say anything for a while, simply keeping his hands on Sebastian's hair in some kind of silent reassurance. He does move finally, but it's only to take off his coat and gloves and sit down next to Sebastian. He reaches out, finds Sebastian's hand and tangles their fingers together. Sebastian looks at their joined hands, and smiles softly. Kurt says nothing, though, and Sebastian guesses that he's giving him the time and space he needs to talk.

"He left," Sebastian says, "Took the cat and everything, so maybe he's not coming back."

"Don't be an idiot, Sebastian," Kurt counters almost immediately.

"Jesus," Sebastian says, a small whine entering his tone, "Aren't you supposed to be reassuring here, princess? 'Cause you kind of suck at it."

Kurt smiles, just a bit amused. "Sorry, I meant to say, of course Hunter's coming back." After a beat, "So don't be an idiot."

Sebastian groans, letting his head fall down to the table. The surface of it is cold, and Sebastian is thankful for the temperature against his heated his skin.

"Hey, come on," Kurt prods, pulling from their joined hands until Sebastian looks up again. When he does, Kurt squeezes his hand, his eyes searching his face for something Sebastian can't guess at. Whatever it is, though, it makes Kurt murmur, "Come here."

Sebastian goes, unable to deny Kurt anything at this point. He leans closer and so does Kurt, and they meet in the middle, soft, slightly parted lips coming together. Sebastian breathes into the kiss, fights the urge to deepen it, and feels Kurt smile against his lips. It's nice. It's wonderful, honestly, and Sebastian pulls away with the beginnings of a smile.

Kurt is flushing when they move apart, and his eyes are darting around him, as if afraid someone is going to say something about two guys kissing in public. Sebastian has been gay in Ohio, too, and he knows that old habits die hard. Just to erase Kurt's doubts, Sebastian pulls him in again, kisses him firmly, stays when Kurt cups one hand around his cheek.

Kurt's smile is big and bright after that, and Sebastian curses himself for being a complete oblivious idiot here. Of course Kurt came here today doubting whatever it is that's going on between them, and of course Sebastian welcomed him with a sour expression and his words full of whining. In his defense, it's not exactly his fault that he's started to become strangely co-dependant of Kurt, to the point where he's the one that gets to cure all his woes.

"I'm terrible at human interaction," Sebastian says after a while. "Why am I even allowed near people?"

"Well," Kurt says, putting a finger to his chin as if deep in thought, "You _are _pretty to look at."

Despite himself, Sebastian smiles. "I knew you only wanted me for my hot body."

They both chuckle, but it's half-heartened. Sebastian's still a little stuck on Hunter, and he hates himself a little for being so emotionally stunted that he never knows how to handle hard situations. Still, when Kurt squeezes his hand again, Sebastian offers him his uneaten half pie, and the brightness of his eyes brings a smile to his lips.

He lets his thoughts wander, tries to forget about his troubles by looking at the long line of Kurt's neck, at the little skin from his shoulder he sees whenever his sweater falls to the side. Kurt's cheeks are flushed a lovely shade of pink, and he must be able to tell that Sebastian is staring yet again. It's different now, though, knowing that he can touch, and Sebastian keeps teetering on the line of watching and waiting, or touching as much as he can as fast as he can.

"You have the dirtiest look on your eyes right now," Kurt informs him, looking down at his already empty plate.

Sebastian smirks, realizing that he hasn't been nearly bold enough at stating his desires. He's always been blunt about what he wants, and maybe he needs to inform Kurt of that now, if only to erase the back and forth thoughts he's been having all along.

He moves forward, presses his nose to Kurt's temple so he can speak right into his ear, and places his hand, fingers spread wide, against his jaw and neck, so he won't escape. "I want you so bad, Kurt, you have no idea," he says. "I jerked off thinking of your neck and your shoulders, and the idea that you might let me see more, maybe everything, is driving me wild."

Kurt turns his head to look at him, and he's close, _so close, _breathing a little unsteadily and blushing prettily when he says, "That's… okay. Yeah. Definitely." He moves closer, presses his lips to Sebastian's hard and a little dirty. Sebastian moves his hands to cup Kurt's face, presses his thumbs to the apples of his cheeks, feeling his toes curl.

They come up for air quickly, mindful of the people around them, but the sight of Kurt's blown pupils is enough to fill Sebastian's mind with a lot of ideas. Ideas of the dirty kind, and dear _God, _Kurt makes him want to write smut _just _about his eyes and his breathing.

They settle down, though, choosing to stay for a while longer at the quiet café, content to just play footsie under the table. It's almost like they're teenagers falling in love, and Sebastian can't say he minds the feeling of excitement and wonder, the nervousness filling his body when he thinks simply about kissing Kurt some more.

In the end, their whispered conversation turns back to Hunter, and Sebastian realizes that he's regaling Kurt with stories of his days back at Dalton and how he met Hunter. They feel like snippets of a story he's going to write some day, and they only make him want to fix his friendship with Hunter even more, if only because he hates the nostalgic tone in his voice.

"… and his stupid cat ate my bird!" he's saying, some time later. "I took care of that bird for a whole year, Kurt, and the moment I left him in Hunt's care, the cat _ate him._"

"Poor Pavarotti the Fourteenth," Kurt says, a small pout between his lips.

Sebastian frowns, fight to urge to kiss Kurt's pout just so he can ask, "Didn't you kill the previous Pavarotti?"

"He had a _stroke, _ok?" Kurt bristles. "I sang a song for him and had a funeral and everything. I was very sad."

"Bird murderers, both of you."

Kurt hits his shoulder when Sebastian is in the middle of being overly dramatic, and they both chuckle softly. Sebastian already feels more at ease, and his determination to make things right feels more settled into his being. He realizes, yet again, that he seems to be constantly afraid of everything, and he hates the feeling. He remembers being a brazen, bold and stupid teenager, and he needs to remove the stupidity from that equation and get some of his fearlessness back.

The time to do it seems to be the moment the thought comes to him, since it's the moment Kurt pokes him and makes him look outside. Hunter is there, standing by the door as if waiting for something, the cat between his arms and his shoulders hunched.

"Don't say anything stupid," Kurt tells him when he's already standing up and getting ready to walk outside.

"Your faith in me is astounding, princess."

Kurt smiles up at him, wiggles his fingers at him in much the same fashion Sebastian did early this afternoon. Sebastian goes to him, presses a lingering kiss to his lips.

"You'll be fine," Kurt assures him this time. Sebastian thanks him silently for the reassurance with one last kiss, and then walks towards the door.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Work's been kicking my ass lately, and with a bunch of people taking their vacation now there's _a lot_ to do.


	9. Chapter 9

Sebastian has always thought that the street outside the café looks like something out of an old, European movie. The streetlamps cast a low, yellow glow over the grey and brown colors of the ground and the buildings of the too-narrow passage, and he thinks that it wouldn't be out of place if a sad quartet started playing something melancholic.

It's very cold tonight, and the moment Sebastian steps outside, he hugs his own arms, his fingers twisting on the thin fabric of his sweater. Hunter doesn't have a coat on, either, and he looks half frozen to death, hugging Mr. Puss to his chest like a living, fluffy scarf.

"Hi," Hunter says, looking straight in front of him, as if looking at Sebastian is too much to handle.

"Hey," Sebastian counters immediately, no thought behind it.

Then, they stay quiet. If this were indeed a movie, Sebastian would more than appreciate the bucolic feeling of the silence. As it is, he's simply uncomfortable because apparently he doesn't know how to have a proper conversation anymore. He breathes in, noisily, and mulls over how to go about this, only for Hunter to start talking before he can get a word out.

"I'm sorry I broke your cups," he says, and this time he does look at Sebastian, just a brief glimpse before he goes back to staring at the wall.

Sebastian snickers, because _honestly._

"Fuck the cups, Hunt, what the hell's going on with you?"

Hunter shrugs, a small little gesture of his shoulders that nearly manages to set Sebastian off again. He's trying here, but if Hunter won't talk to him, he has no idea what he's supposed to do other than stay here and freeze his ass off. He turns a little on the spot and pats his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. He lights one up, looks at the orange tip and the way it seems to illuminate the street almost eerily.

"That's really bad for you, you know?" Hunter intones, low and tired.

Sebastian knows the smoke bothers him to unnatural levels, and feels the childish urge to blow it on his face. He catches himself in time, and simply murmurs _seriously, Hunt? _to himself. Still, he throws the nearly complete cigarette to the floor and steps on it, effectively extinguishing it. There's more silence then, and it feels heavy on Sebastian's shoulders. They'd always been the type to share comfortable silences, and this feels awkward and unpleasant.

Minutes stretch by between them, and Sebastian is the first one to snap.

"Hunter, I'm _trying _here, ok?" he says, looking right at Hunter and stretching his arms at his sides, exasperated. "I know I'm not exactly the best conversationalist in the world, and that I manage to say the wrong thing every single time, but you being sullen and quiet is not making things easier here."

Hunter scoffs, and for a second, Sebastian thinks that he's gotten somewhere. Hunter doesn't say anything else, though, instead sliding to the ground until he's sitting down, his knees up and his back against the wall. He's wearing expensive designer pants, and Sebastian thinks that maybe this would be easier if he got Kurt out here to yell at him for staining such nice clothes. He's musing on the idea when Hunter finally speaks, his voice barely above a murmur and his hand clutching Mr. Puss' fur.

"I talked to my father," he says. "He thinks I should stop being stupid and go back home. He wants me to live with him and mom for a while, says that I need help."

Sebastian snorts. "Do you?"

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly in the best shape here." It comes out sarcastic, and Sebastian's glad, because sarcasm is always a step in the right direction.

"You're never in the best shape."

"Gee, thanks, Bas."

Sebastian smiles, can't help himself, and lowers his eyes to the ground so he can look better at Hunter's profile. He puts both his hands inside his pockets, having almost forgotten the cold outside. He kicks at the ground, sullen, and asks, "Do you _want _to go back home, Hunt?"

Hunter shrugs, says, "Seems like the thing to do."

"Yes, but do you _want to_?"

"That's not even… I don't _know_, ok?" Hunter says, frustrated, as his hands fly to his hair and grip tight, as if he has to keep trying to still them. "Everything was a mess back home and I ran away, and this honestly seemed like the place to go, but I'm an out of control mess anyway." He stops, breathes out, and then whispers, "You don't even want me here."

"Hunt, of course I want you here!"

"You don't have to say that."

"I'm not just–ugh, you're so frustratingly unbelievable," Sebastian says, looking up as if the sky may have an answer for them. It doesn't, though, so Sebastian does the only thing he can do. He passes his hands over his face, exasperated, and then drops down to the ground and sits next to Hunter, pressing their shoulders together. He breathes out, and says, "I missed you, alright?"

Hunter looks at him, blinks slowly, as if the notion of Sebastian missing him is absurd, or completely foreign.

"I did," Sebastian confirms, his voice low. "I missed talking to you, and your absurd cleaning habits, and how you drag me to every Bond movie because you have this weird obsession with them, all of it. I even missed your stupid cat that hates me."

Hunter doesn't say anything for a bit, and then, "Mr. Puss doesn't hate you."

Sebastian snorts, says, "Yeah, ok."

The silence that follows isn't as heavy anymore, feels more like a pause than a full stop, and Sebastian breathes in slowly. He's cold, too cold, and he thinks sitting on the ground outside in the middle of winter is probably the worst idea they've ever had, but for now it feels almost adequate. It feels like they need to earn their way back inside the warmth of the café, somehow, and like they haven't yet.

"I'm not–" Hunter says after a while, "I'm not okay, Sebastian." He says it fast, but it still feels loaded, like a scary confession.

Sebastian nods, mulls the words inside his head. "And you think going back home will help?"

Hunter shrugs, looks at him full on the eyes this time. It feels like a sign of trust, and Sebastian finds himself breathing easier. He's pretty sure Hunter hasn't truly trusted him since the sleeping together fiasco.

"I think I should go back to therapy."

"You can do that here," Sebastian says, and somehow it feels like a request. There's something inside him that's not willing to part with Hunter, and he honestly believes that going back to his parents is the worst decision ever.

"My life is back there, though," Hunter argues, "my family, my job, my girlfriend… Or at least whatever is left of that."

Sebastian sighs, and softly replies with, "You quit your job and your girlfriend left you."

"And I don't really like my parents," Hunter continues, nodding along. "But, you know," he says, "it's still my family."

Sebastian does know, of course. He may not have the best relationship with his dad, but a part of him is still somehow hoping for the barest scrap of approval from him. He knows warmth is actually too much to ask from Smythe senior, but seeing pride in his eyes is something a small, secret part of Sebastian still craves. It's unhealthy and hurtful, but he knows where Hunter is coming from. Still, he says:

"They always make you nervous, though." He points at Hunter's hands, at the way they've maniacally started caressing Mr. Puss' fur at the mention of his parents. The cat's purring, soft and steady, and the sound seems to calm Hunter, though.

"Yeah," Hunter says on an exhale, "but what the hell am I supposed to do in Paris? I'll end up crawling up the walls with so much free time. Or breaking stuff. Or attacking poor, unsuspecting baristas."

Sebastian chuckles, nods slightly. "You _are _a menace to society, Clarington. But," he shrugs, then says, "you could, I don't know, work at the café, or, fuck, walk around Paris. You're in _Paris, _Hunt, just properly inspecting the Louvre would take you months. You could learn French, or find a hobby, or–"

"If you say take pottery lessons, Smythe, I'm going to the fucking airport right now."

Sebastian laughs this time, throws his head back and lets a grin take over. When he looks at Hunter, he's smiling too, if a little tentatively. When he settles down, he sees that Hunter has started gnawing at his lip, and has to fight the urge to forcibly stop him.

Hunter sags a little forward, brings the cat up and closer to his chest in a bit of a protective motion. "We don't have the best record exactly, Bas."

Sebastian snorts. "That's a nice way of putting it." He stops, breathes in the cold night air through his nose and sees it turn into white fog when it goes out through his mouth. "I'm sorry," he says, "I know we're supposed to have this long and emotional heart to heart about what happened, but honestly, I'm just sorry, for–for everything, really. Sleeping with you when we were both vulnerable, and the amount of vitriol I threw your way after."

Hunter nods, says, "I'm sorry, too. But that doesn't mean we're not going to end up screwing up like that again. I mean, you act like an idiot a lot of the time, and I can't help but point it out."

Sebastian laughs, pushes at Hunter's shoulder with his own. "Ditto, jerk."

Hunter laughs a little, rests his head back against the wall and looks up. He looks tired and a bit defeated, but also relieved. "Fine, I'll stay and learn French or whatever." He turns his head towards Sebastian and says, "And we'll try not to yell at each other."

"And no breaking stuff," Sebastian completes, nodding.

Hunter wrinkles his nose, almost in distaste. "No more sex either."

"Hey! You say that like it was the worst experience in the world."

Hunter smiles at him, says, "Well, it wasn't all that memorable, honestly."

Sebastian punches his arm, mock-offended, and mumbles, "I was grieving and drunk, it doesn't count. I could very easily prove my sexual prowess, you know?" He leers at Hunter, even wiggles his eyebrows suggestively just for show, or maybe just to see Hunter's shoulders shake with laughter.

"Yeah, right," Hunter counters. "Maybe a few weeks ago, but you won't be sleeping with anyone that's not Kurt right now. You're probably going to marry him and adopt a bunch of adorable babies with him or something, you know that, right?"

Sebastian smiles wistfully, but says, "Actually, he'll probably go back home and my heart will be crushed forever, but I'll take your fantasy for now."

"Hey, you can ask him to stay, you know?"

Sebastian shrugs, looks forward rather than at Hunter's dark eyes. "Hardly. I can't just ask him to leave his life behind for some uncertain maybes."

Sebastian sees Hunter squint his eyes through the corner of his eye, but only looks at him when he pokes him in the arm with an insistent finger. "Didn't you just ask me exactly that?"

"Well, yes, but you're unstable and you hate your life, so." He shrugs, smiles when Hunter punches his arm half-heartedly.

"Idiot."

They settle down for a minute, and Sebastian has to smile when he notices their silence is comfortable now. He feels relieved, and basks in his contentment just for a bit, because he's freezing his ass off and he thinks they've earned their passage back inside.

"Come on, let's go inside," he says, standing up.

Hunter stands up, too, leaving Mr. Puss on the ground before he opens both his arms wide and says, "Come on, come here."

Dumbly, Sebastian asks, "What?"

Hunter sighs before saying, "Just this once, and without making a precedent out of it, we're gonna hug," he announces. Then, he points a serious finger at Sebastian, saying, "In a manly way."

Sebastian rolls his eyes, but can't help but snicker. "Of course, in a manly way."

Sebastian's positively sure the way they cling to each other doesn't actually count as manly.

* * *

It's when they're stepping inside the café that Hunter says, "We should sing a song together." Then, he exclaims, "Yes! We should definitely sing!"

"Oh, God," Sebastian counters, "no singing."

"But, Bas, don't you remember how good we were? The awesome times of The Warblers?"

Sebastian snorts. "My memories of that time are still traumatizing. They will haunt me forever."

The one that laughs at that is Kurt, the smile he directs at Sebastian nothing but mocking. "Seriously, Sebastian?" he says.

Sebastian walks towards him with a pout between his lips. "They made me sing One Direction, Kurt."

"Fine," Hunter says, walking behind him and sitting down next to Kurt on one of the barstools, "We'll sing something serious and boring that pleases your little snobbish heart."

Kurt laughs, and Hunter smiles at him, and the last thing Sebastian needs in his life is for these two to gang up on him. As punishment and with a smirk, he presses both his very cold hands to the unclothed skin of Kurt's neck.

"Oh my God, Sebastian Smythe, get your cold hands away from me!" he exclaims, batting ineffectively at him while Sebastian does his best to keep touching. And hey, Kurt's warm and soft, so who can blame him?

"But, babe–"

"Don't you babe me, you, ugh–" Kurt stops talking only when he manages to grasp both Sebastian's hands, but instead of pushing him away, he manhandles him until he's standing behind Kurt, both his arms around his waist and his hands trapped somewhere in the folds of Kurt's soft sweater. Sebastian smiles, leans forward until he can rest his chin on Kurt's shoulder. He noses at his neck, and smiles even wider when Kurt only half-heartedly mumbles a protest about his cold nose.

"You two are sickening," Hunter intones.

Kurt sticks his tongue out at him, and says, "Like the whole talking and hugging in the cold street wasn't straight out of a corny novel."

"Excuse me," Hunter complains, "that was nothing but a show of rugged manliness."

"Uh, huh."

Sebastian sort of tunes them out after that, happy to envelop Kurt between his arms and press his face into the hollow of his neck. He feels warm, and he knows there's more than temperature to thank for the feeling. Hunter and Kurt are happily teasing each other while Ginette, Paulette and Tom tend to the customers, and Sebastian hasn't felt more like part of a family since his mom passed away. It's fragile, he knows, but he basks in the feeling anyway.

He looks around, at Hunter and how tentative his smile is, and at the abandoned pattern of sugar packets Kurt only stopped building when his busy hands found Sebastian's own. He catches sight of Ginette rolling her eyes at him, of Paulette's soft smile and of Tom's eyes constantly moving around, as if trying to memorize every scene before him in order to sketch it later. That's a feeling he understands, and without meaning to, he looks at the napkin he left on the wall, a few scribbled words on it. Everything might be fragile, but right now, it feels more tangible than anything Sebastian remembers feeling in years.

He squeezes Kurt between his arms, receives a squeeze to his hands in return. He looks at Kurt from his position on his shoulder, studies the torture device his sweater looks like. The thing has buckles, for God's shakes. His boots look like something out of a sadomasochist fantasy, too, and everything about him is a contrast that's both scary and welcoming. Sebastian wants him. _God, _he wants him.

He comes back from his thoughts when Kurt squeezes his hand and murmurs, "You okay?"

Sebastian nods, and then moves from his spot against Kurt's neck until he's whispering against his ear, "I was just thinking that I'm going to need a tutorial to undress you."

Kurt smiles, turning his head so he's looking at Sebastian, his eyes and his lips and his everything too close and not nearly close enough at the same time. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

Kurt's lips are moist when he kisses them, and they taste of coffee and cake. They part easily under Sebastian's, and they feel like a dirty promise. When Sebastian hears Hunter's not entirely subtle whisper of _oh, for Christ's shakes, just get a room already _he thinks that yeah, they probably should.

* * *

A/N:

I'm sorry I'm taking forever to update lately, but everything's been a bit crazy lately. Work's been hard, and my brother, my sister-in-law and my nine month old niece have moved in with me for a while so privacy, silence and sleep are kind of an issue right now.

Any case, thanks everybody for the support. The feedback this fic has gotten has been awesome and overwhelming!

Also, thanks to the lovely chellisssa, who is going to be translating this fic to Russian!


	10. Chapter 10

Next evening, Sebastian picks Kurt up at the theater after the show and has to watch him excuse himself from his cast-mates for at least five minutes before he can pry him away. They whine and moan, tell Kurt that he's a traitor who never spends time with them anymore, and end up winking at him when he falls easily between Sebastian's arms.

"We could have gone with them if you wanted," Sebastian offers after, when they're walking side by side, direction unclear.

Kurt shakes his head. "They just want the gossip; I don't think they even like me all that much."

"Well, you have betrayed them for a hot barista, of course they don't like you."

Kurt smacks his shoulder but smiles at him anyway, grasping Sebastian's gloved hand with one of his own and swinging them with something close to childish glee. He looks happier than he did when they first saw each other what feels like ages ago, and Sebastian doesn't want to presume that it has anything to do with him, but he still does.

When they reach the corner of the street, Kurt stops him, pulls from their joined hands and Sebastian goes to him, finds his waist with his free hand.

"What do you want to do?" Kurt asks, blinking too blue eyes up at him.

Sebastian shrugs. He hasn't really thought about it, and he doesn't really care. "We could go have a drink," he offers.

Kurt hums, a soft _mmm, hmmm, _as if considering the option, right before he moves up with a smile and dives for Sebastian's lips. Sebastian gets with the program quickly, moaning quietly into Kurt's lips as they part over his own. Kurt's lips are cold, a little chapped from the wind, and still the best thing Sebastian has ever kissed. He deepens it, untangles his hand from Kurt's so he can encase him in his arms and bring him up and closer.

The wind picks up while they're still kissing, fast and cold in that way it has during Paris' winters, and it makes them squeeze each other close. Kurt disentangles his hands from the grip they had on Sebastian's hair and brings them down his neck and chest until he finds the buttons of Sebastian's thick coat. He opens them, sneaks his arms inside and presses them around Sebastian's waist under the coat. It's warmer with Kurt pressed up like this to him, as if going through one layer is enough to calm the wind down.

Kurt's hands are massaging at the small of his back when Sebastian breaks away from the kiss enough time to gasp, "Or, we could have a glass of wine a–" Kurt doesn't let him finish, finds his lips and keeps kissing him as if he's starved for touch.

It's some time later when Kurt is the one to break away to muter, "You were saying?" It's breathy, low, a murmur that feels almost like a touch against Sebastian's skin.

"My place," he gasps, because Kurt may have freed his mouth, but has started an onslaught against the little skin of his neck he can free from his scarf. "A glass of wine," Sebastian mutters, "Yeah?" And okay, Kurt's lips at the front of his throat are doing _things _to him.

Kurt nods against his neck, his wet lips still touching softly at his skin, the hot puffs of his breath a caress all on their own. "Yeah, sounds like a plan," he breathes out.

They would have made their way back between long, hard kisses if it hadn't started raining on them almost half along the way. Instead, they end up running, and when they walk inside the apartment they're both nearly soaked and smelling of rainwater.

The apartment is empty, Sebastian having sent a preemptive text to Hunter to leave them the place. Hunter has taken a liking for the night shift at the café, anyway, so Sebastian doesn't feel too guilty, even if they're going to need to have a conversation about him working illegally in France.

It's warm inside, so Sebastian sheds his wet coat and lights a couple of table lamps, casting a warm yellow glow inside the living-room. He smiles at Kurt before finding a couple of towels and throwing one at him after he's removed his own coat. Sebastian dries his hair as best as he can and leaves Kurt doing the same while he goes into the kitchen in the search of a bottle of wine.

"Hey," Kurt murmurs when he follows him into the kitchen, right before perching himself up on the counter and looking at Sebastian's hands as they busy themselves opening the bottle.

Kurt's hair is a bit of a mess, no matter his attempts at styling it down, and the skin of his collarbones looks humid from the rain. He's biting his lip and his fingers are drumming a nervous beat against the counter. He looks adorable and tempting and like everything Sebastian wants.

When Sebastian opens the bottle, he pours two glasses and offers one to Kurt, their fingers brushing when they pass the glass. He leans on the counter next to Kurt, pressing his open palm to Kurt's thigh and taking a sip of his glass.

"You know," Kurt starts, "when you said a glass of wine, I didn't realize there was going to be an _actual_ glass of wine."

Sebastian smiles, chuckles slightly. "See if I ever try to seduce you properly again, princess."

Kurt raises both his eyebrows, smiles wickedly at him. "Is that what you're doing?" He leans down, presses a soft, lingering kiss to Sebastian's lips. "I'm actually okay with that," he says when he break away.

Sebastian smiles, tightens his grip on Kurt's thigh for just a second. He guesses jumping Kurt – wet, raw-lipped, horny Kurt – the moment they had crossed the threshold would have been the obvious choice, but if age has given him anything, it's the knowledge that there's nothing wrong with taking a little time to get things right. He likes sex, has liked it for a long time, but he's too far away from quick romps in stinky bathrooms to appreciate rushing when there's no need. They have time and an empty apartment all to themselves, and just because Sebastian wants to rip Kurt's clothes away from him with his teeth, doesn't mean that he can't offer a nice glass of wine first.

They've been silent for a while, just drinking, when Kurt laughs. Sebastian looks at him, questioning eyebrow raised, and Kurt slides an already warm hand to his cheek and murmurs, "You are a true romantic, after all, aren't you?"

"Shut up," Sebastian utters. "It's Paris at night and it's raining, can you blame me for wanting to wine you properly before getting naked?"

"You're adorable."

"Don't insult me, princess."

Kurt smiles, draws a small circle on his cheek with the soft pad of his finger. "You can't fool me anymore, Sebastian Smythe, I got you figured out."

Sebastian turns his face into Kurt's palm, smiles into it instead of denying anything. He might not be a romantic, not truly, but he guesses he does have his moments.

"Of course, if you want to go the whole romantic cliché way," Kurt intones after a beat, making Sebastian look up at him, "we should do the whole staying up all night talking about deep and meaningful stuff." He sighs, looks up an away as if resigned. "Just. Talking."

Sebastian groans, knows a tease when he's met him, and leaves his glass of wine on the counter so he can maneuver his way between Kurt's spread legs, pressing his forearms to his thighs and crowding him in until he can't escape.

"Let's skip that part," he says, leaning closer and breathing against Kurt's neck before pressing a wet, slow kiss to the skin above Kurt's pulse point.

Kurt sighs, softly this time, and brings his arms around Sebastian's neck, his fingers finding his nape and playing with the short hairs there. Sebastian breaks away from Kurt's skin and looks up, finds his lips unexpectedly close to his own. His cheeks are flushed a light pink and his lips are parted, as if stopped before uttering a sentence.

"What?" Sebastian whispers.

Kurt looks away for a second, looks back as if unsure, as if not knowing what it is he wants to say exactly. In the end, what he says is, "You're just so… unexpected." He stops, swallows audibly. "My life has been such a mess lately and you're just. Yeah. Unexpected."

Sebastian _has_ to kiss him right then, so he does just that, moving into the small space between them and pressing their lips together. It's hungry this time, the way they move, as if now that the intent is clear they can't wait anymore to get on with it.

Sebastian finds the hem of Kurt's sweater and navigates his layers until he finds the skin of his hips. He digs his fingers in, moves them slowly to Kurt's back and presses both his palms fully into the small of it. Kurt arches into the touch, moving forward just a tiny bit to press his crotch almost fully against Sebastian's chest.

Kurt's hands climb to Sebastian's still wet hair, dig inside and massage Sebastian's scalp as he maneuvers him into the kiss as he pleases. Sebastian smiles against Kurt's lips, because _of course _he's going to be bossy in bed.

"What?" Kurt mumbles, pressing small, biting kisses to his smile before trailing down his jaw and towards his neck.

"Bossy," Sebastian says, gasping when Kurt bites him after his remark.

Sebastian trails his hands up Kurt's back, his thumb following the path of his spine. His skin is still a little humid from the rain, but feels soft nonetheless, and it's already starting to warm up. When he reaches Kurt's shoulder blades, he traces the bones there blindly, a little clumsy because Kurt's lips have reached his collarbones and that's a whole new level of distracting.

He pulls all of Kurt's layers in one go, relishing in the fact that no matter how many of them there are, at least they're all easy to take off. He wonders, briefly, if Kurt has worn simple clothes for his benefit, but when he's presented with _so much _perfect, soft, pale skin, he kind of forgets about coherent trains of thought.

He reaches out and presses his fingers to Kurt's stomach, trails his hands up through his chest and then to his sides, back to his shoulders. Kurt smiles, finds his lips again, and lets his deft fingers work on Sebastian's own shirt. Once it's undone, he looks down, as if appraising.

"Just one layer?" he wonders. "How unchallenging."

Sebastian snorts, chooses to say nothing and instead helps Kurt take his shirt off when he starts pushing it away from his shoulders. Kurt's fingers trail over his shoulders, up to his neck. He brings Sebastian back in for another kiss, openmouthed and dirty, his tongue licking at Sebastian's lips before digging back inside his mouth with intent. Sebastian groans into it, arching up as he moves his hands over Kurt's thighs, pressing and nearly scratching at the fabric of his jeans. He moves them down over Kurt's long legs until they find the top of his knee-high boots, and then lets his fingers play with the laces.

Kurt pushes at his chest after a while, says, "Let me get down." His voice is raw and broken, and when Sebastian steps back and looks at him, he sees red lips and big, blue dilated eyes.

Sebastian bites his lower lip, smiles and says, "Let me get rid of these first," he taps his fingers against the edge of Kurt's boots, and pulls from one of the laces.

"Think you can manage?" Kurt teases, leaning down to press a wet kiss to the exposed skin of his neck.

Sebastian stops paying attention to the boots with a groan. "You keep distracting me."

Kurt smiles, looks at him. "Tough."

"Tease," he mumbles, stopping a minute to kiss him again just because he can.

He goes back to the boots then, and when Kurt moves back towards his neck, Sebastian clucks his tongue disapprovingly.

"You're going to have to stay still, or we're never getting out of here."

Kurt gives him a little pout, but settles back against the counter anyway. "You're no fun," he whines.

Sebastian chuckles but goes back to the boots anyway, finding the laces and discovering that they're not nearly as challenging as he thought at first. The boots are a thing of beauty, though, and maybe if he begs prettily enough he can get Kurt to fuck him while wearing nothing but them. He moans at the thought, and presses his heated forehead to the middle of Kurt's chest.

"I'm having kinky thoughts about your boots."

"Oh," Kurt says, very obviously interested. "Care to elaborate?"

Sebastian would, except that he's as hard as he remembers ever being and Kurt needs to be naked already.

"Later, maybe," he says, pressing a kiss to Kurt's breastplate as his hands move over the laces of the boots.

He seems to have a pretty good grasp of how the things work now, so he lets his lips wander over Kurt's chest, trailing kisses to a tempting nipple before softly sucking on it. He presses the flat of his tongue to it and Kurt gasps above him, bringing both hands to his hair and cradling his head against his chest. He only lets Sebastian move when it's clear that his goal is his other, neglected nipple.

Kurt's slowly melting against his mouth when the boots finally fall to the floor, the thumping sound of them meeting the wooden panels seemingly sending Kurt into a frenzy. He pushes at Sebastian's chest and slides down from the counter, almost immediately grasping Sebastian's hips and bringing them back together. They kiss, sloppy and breathing hard now that they're completely pressed against each other, chest to chest, their hard-ons pressing against each other's thighs.

Sebastian nearly growls into Kurt's mouth, moving his hands down to cup a handful of his ass. He grabs and squeezes, bringing Kurt closer in his movement. Kurt's hands are busy themselves, one behind Sebastian's neck, keeping him right where he wants him, and the other one sneaking its way into Sebastian's jeans. The heel of Kurt's hand finds the base of Sebastian's cock and he moans, buckles forward and effectively traps Kurt's hand between them.

"Sebastian," Kurt mumbles, his lips fighting Sebastian's kisses to form words. "I want you to fuck me; can we do that? Can we?"

Sebastian groans instead of giving a coherent answer, because honestly, he doubts Kurt thinks he's going to say no. Still, Kurt speaks again, saying, "Can we _now_?"

Sebastian chuckles against his mouth, breathy and hoarse. "Impatient."

Kurt doesn't answer this time, and chooses instead to push him towards the bedroom. Sebastian complies easily, stepping away and grabbing at the front of Kurt's jeans to pull him closer again.

Inside the bedroom, Sebastian makes quick work of his jeans and underwear, and watches steadily as Kurt does the same. He's beautiful all over, smooth and pale except for the parts of his skin where Sebastian has left his mark. Kurt doesn't let him have too much time to look, though, pressing back against him and pushing until they nearly topple over onto the bed, limbs everywhere.

They settle back properly amid small kisses and laughter, and that's good, it's fantastic, because he's always been of the opinion that sex should be fun. He presses one long kiss to Kurt's mouth, and while he starts moving his lips over the white expanse of his neck, he reaches down and between his ass cheeks, ghosts his fingers over the skin there. Kurt gasps, then moans, and opens up prettily, moving like a cat to give Sebastian access to every part of his body he chooses to touch next.

By the time Sebastian has two lubed fingers inside Kurt, Kurt's managed to tangle their legs in a way that has their cocks bumping against each other at every move. He keeps moving too, writhing under the assault of Sebastian fingers in a way that has him thinking that he wouldn't mind making him come _just _with them.

Kurt's fingers are at his hip, flexing and digging in, scratching when his breath hitches when Sebastian scissors his fingers, when he adds a third one. His eyes are half lidded but they look awake, lust present in his blue irises. Sebastian is kind of mesmerized, the pleasure cursing through his skin and making his toes curl and his mind hazy.

Kurt murmurs his name occasionally, a soft _Sebastian _that's nearly a breath, shaping Kurt's lips prettily around the sound. It's perfect in a way that few things in life are, and it strikes Sebastian, his fingers inside Kurt, the rest of his body all around him, that fantasies of possible futures or not, he's going to marry this man. Somehow, in some undetermined future that they're going to make possible, they're going to get a stupid, corny happy ever after.

He doesn't linger on the thought, instead kissing Kurt before putting on a condom and pressing Kurt back into the mattress.

He smiles at Kurt below him, murmurs, "Is this the part of the novel where I ask if you're sure?"

Kurt smacks his chest, hard. "After you've got me all worked up? I'll kill you, I swear."

Sebastian laughs, slides inside Kurt with a smile on his lip, and sighs into the feeling of warm wetness as Kurt whispers his name yet again. Sebastian moves in slowly, circles his hips, and settles completely on top of Kurt when he props his legs on his hips, keeping him trapped against his body. His movements are limited like this, almost forced to be slow, but he's perfectly okay with that.

"At this pace," he murmurs, "we're gonna be here for hours."

Kurt hums, circles his hips in time with Sebastian's and presses his hands to the small of his back, trying to control his rhythm. "I don't think I can take hours," he says. "No matter how slow we take this."

Sebastian pushes in, hard, moans into Kurt's neck when he arches his back and sends a spike of pleasure all the way to his toes. He probably has a point, but Sebastian keeps up a steady, hard pace anyway, driving himself deep inside Kurt. The pleasure curls his toes, makes his breath fast against Kurt's neck, even if slow and lazy seems to be what they're doing here.

Sebastian presses his hands to the outside of Kurt's thighs, hitches them up higher on his hips and smiles when Kurt gasps at the new angle, writhing under him to hold onto the new position as best as he can. Sebastian is unforgiving then, fucking into him slow and hard and steady, moaning sharply when Kurt's nails dig into the skin of his hips and his ass.

"Maybe," Sebastian mutters, the hot puffs of his breath hitting the sweaty skin of Kurt's neck, "maybe we can go fast in round two."

Kurt arches under him, digs his nails in deeper. His cock is effectively trapped between their bellies, and Sebastian feels him try to rub himself steadily against the skin there. He goes to reach a hand between them, but Kurt stops him and keeps it instead, threading their fingers together as he murmurs _I'm good, I'm good._

"We'll see," Kurt says after a while, enough that Sebastian has almost forgotten what they're supposed to be talking about. "I think," Kurt continues, his voice hoarse and tired, as if he's been screaming, his tone parted by hitching breaths. "I think for round two I'm going to climb into your lap and ride you."

"Fuck, Kurt," Sebastian mumbles, pressing himself deep and hard and close and staying there before picking up his pace again.

It's hard to talk after that, moans and ragged breaths substituting words as Sebastian finds himself driving into Kurt at a faster, harder pace. Kurt's nails have found a permanent spot on the small of Sebastian's back already, and his legs are slipping down and away from his hips, the effort too much now that the pleasure is taking over, leaving Kurt spread-eagled and debauched under Sebastian, clinging to him like an anchor.

Sebastian grips at Kurt's hips hard, unforgiving, keeping him still now that every movement of his hips and of his cock inside him is making him gasp continuously. Sebastian's nearly gone, his knees weak and his abs protesting the effort, his muscles taut and his breath quick. Kurt's cock is still bouncing between them, long and hard and leaking, and good _God _Sebastian wants to suck him.

"Do you–" he starts, "do you need me to touch you?"

He's close, so close, everything warm and wet feeling to the point where he feels ready to explode. Under him, Kurt looks destroyed, breathtakingly beautiful with the clear marks of all their touching on his skin, and Sebastian can't keep up for much longer.

"No, no, I'm good," Kurt replies, breathy. "Just don't stop, fuck, don't stop."

Sebastian doesn't, not until Kurt's eyes open, blue and huge as his lips part in a nearly silent moan, and he feels warm ropes of come hitting his stomach. He lets go then, feels the tension of his body leave him as his orgasm hits, warm and long and perfect, Kurt's whole body all around him.

They don't stop moving, though, they keep trying to kiss even when all they manage is to breathe hotly against each other's lips. They try, though, and they manage a long, slow and deep kiss as Sebastian collapses on top of Kurt, come and sweat be damned.

It's some time after that he finally disentangles himself, mostly because Kurt grouches at him about being too heavy. He slumps next to Kurt, absentmindedly getting rid of the condom and fighting himself so he doesn't say something stupid about how freaking _amazing _that was.

Silence settles over them, comfortable and welcome. The room is warm and it smells of sex, Kurt is smiling contentedly next to him, seemingly focused on steadying his breaths and looking stunningly beautiful spread out and naked on Sebastian's dark green bed sheets. It's something out of a novel, better than anything Sebastian could ever think to write, and the spell is only broken when Kurt's stomach grumbles loudly.

"Oh my God," Kurt whines, and Sebastian laughs heartily next to him, leaning in and trapping Kurt's tongue before he can stick it out at him.

They kiss, slowly and leisurely.

"Hungry?" Sebastian asks when they break apart.

"Famished."

Sebastian gets up from the bed with a groan, and cleans himself up before walking into the kitchen. Their clothes lay rumpled on the floor and on top of the counter, but Sebastian ignores them in favor of picking up some leftover Chinese, a piece of cake, and refilling their forgotten glasses of wine.

He finds Kurt sitting on the bed, his lap half covered by the sheets, a dopey smile on his face and his hair sticking up in all kinds of directions. He looks marked all over, the shape of Sebastian's mouth and fingers etched into his pale skin.

"Leftover Chinese, cake and wine?" he wonders. "I think I might swoon."

Sebastian smiles, climbs into the bed while saying, "Be nice or you don't get any."

Kurt pouts, his lip jutting out _just so, _and Sebastian doesn't waste a second passing him a container of re-heated rice. They eat in silence for a second, Sebastian as hungry as Kurt himself seems to be. In between mouthfuls, though, Kurt asks:

"What'd you do with Hunter?"

"Kindly asked him to stay out of the apartment," Sebastian answers.

Kurt lifts both eyebrows. "Presumptuous."

"Please," Sebastian says, snorting, "you practically undressed me out in the street, I knew you wouldn't resist me."

Kurt calls him an idiot, but does it while sneaking a hand over Sebastian's thigh and squeezing, so Sebastian knows that there's not too much heat behind it.

"Things are good with you two, yeah?" Kurt asks after, raising a shoulder as if trying to be casual.

Sebastian nods. "Better, I think," he says. "We'll probably screw up again eventually, though."

Kurt's the one to nod this time, as if agreeing wholeheartedly. "You two are kind of emotionally moronic, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Oh, I'm so not giving you cake for that."

Kurt looks at him, and for a second there Sebastian thinks he's about to launch himself at the cake. Instead, he ends up shrugging and taking the last sip of his wine before setting the glass on one of the bedside tables.

"You can keep the cake," he says, reaching out and taking Sebastian's own glass from between his fingers, "I have something else in mind."

Sebastian starts to ask what Kurt's talking about, but stops himself when Kurt throws the sheet covering him away and crawls his way towards Sebastian before climbing into his lap, settling his legs around his waist and effectively sitting on top of his cock. It twitches between Sebastian's legs, definitely interested.

"I think I'm liking this train of thought," Sebastian says, looking up seriously into Kurt's eyes.

"Good," Kurt answers. "Save the cake for later."


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt's moaning, low and pretty, almost a sigh. Sebastian has gotten so used to the sound already that he has to wonder how he's gone all his life without it. He wants to make it sound louder and faster, because he's exhausted and Kurt's been close for the last twenty minutes, and he thinks that's more than enough torture for now. He presses his tongue flat at the small of Kurt's back, twists his fingers slow and sure.

"Sebastian," Kurt whines, "you're killing me here."

Sebastian smiles, darts his tongue down until it's touching his own fingers where they're pressing inside Kurt. Kurt gasps, mouths a loud _oh _and presses back against Sebastian's face. Sebastian obliges, presses his fingers and his mouth until he has a steady rhythm and Kurt's lying prone on the bed, a writhing mass of moans. It's wonderful, seeing him like this, open and naked and gone. Kurt always keeps himself so hidden, layers upon layers of clothing all around him, that him being this free around him has Sebastian exhilarated.

Kurt comes with half a growl and half a moan, and slumps even harder on the bed, if that's possible. Sebastian laughs, touches his hand softly to the small of his back, where his skin is bright with sweat, and lets his fingers run over it in a soft, tickling caress.

"You alive over there?" he wonders, moving up onto the bed and dropping next to Kurt, his body feeling suddenly too heavy. If they keep up this rhythm, they're not going to survive.

Kurt groans, murmurs, "Barely."

He moves his head so he's facing Sebastian. His cheeks are flushed a deep red, and his hair is plastered to his forehead, wild and untamed. Sebastian smiles, moving his hand to push Kurt's hair back, slicking it back with his own sweat.

"You're awful," Kurt says. "A torturer, an evil sex demon." He's still breathing hard, and his words are a rough whisper that almost seems to physically touch Sebastian's skin.

Sebastian smirks, even as his hand moves to Kurt's neck and stays there, light and soft. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Kurt tries to shrug, but the movement is small, tired. "It was ok, I guess."

Sebastian brings his hand to his chest almost immediately, mock-offended. "Just ok!? Ok, that's it," he states, "no more sex for you."

"What?" Kurt asks, lifting a single eyebrow. "You don't get to decide that, you know? Sex is like, half the reason I like you."

"Oh, lovely."

Kurt laughs, a bright smile curving his lips. He moves up then, leaning on his elbow and looking still exhausted but more recovered as he moves closer to Sebastian. He leans in, kisses him on the mouth while still smiling, light and happy.

"There," he says, satisfied. "Now bring me chocolate."

Sebastian groans. "You're _so_ high maintenance."

"Like you didn't know that already."

* * *

They spend their afternoon cuddled close together on the soft, plush chair by the big window on Sebastian's apartment. Kurt loves looking outside at the quiet street, and Sebastian loves that they have to tangle their limbs impossibly to fit into the chair. Kurt's hair is close to his face, sweet smelling and soft, and it's easy to curl his arms around Kurt's middle and hold him like something precious.

Kurt's been wearing softer clothes lately, sweaters and shirts that free his shoulders and let him take a peek at the thinner shirts underneath. Sebastian knows he has a tendency of reading too much into everything, but he's seen the way Kurt makes armor out of suits and severe looking vests, the way he always protects his neck with fashionably tight scarves. Kurt's comfortable with him, and his clothes are only a testament of how much.

"Mmm," Kurt murmurs after a while, curling his hand around Sebastian's on his stomach. "You love this whole creating an atmosphere thing, don't you?"

"What thing?" Sebastian wonders. He feels sleepy, drained of all energy and impossibly content.

"The music," Kurt starts, "the nice view, the low lights; it's like you want to make everything into the scene of a cozy book."

Sebastian smiles. So maybe he has a special playlist filled with soft music for whenever he sits down on this same chair to read, and maybe he's always thought that there's something inherently romantic to the little apartment above the café, so what?

"Have you been writing at all?" Kurt asks, turning a little bit around so he can look him in the eye. It's like he wants to make sure Sebastian won't lie.

Sebastian feels himself tense up, and he knows Kurt must be able to tell, with them being all over each other the way they are. "I've been staring at a blank page," he says, trying for non-chalant. "It's not easy."

Sebastian wishes for the easiness of his teenage years, when he would write mindless strings of words without a second thought. And maybe they weren't good, but they were the only real outlet he had when he was feeling like the world was too much to bear. Now, though, the blank page and the blinking cursor seem to taunt him. He feels inadequate, somehow, like those few words he wrote in a napkin are all he has in him, and he's afraid Kurt's going to be disappointed.

"It's ok," Kurt says, squeezing his hand. "I just wanted to know."

"Right."

But now Sebastian feels uncomfortable, like his insecurities have been exposed. Kurt's presence in his life and his near constant questioning has been changing him, making him realize how much he's been missing, how stuck in time he's been for the past years. It doesn't mean that Kurt can help him move past this though, much less if he's going back to his actual life in little time.

"Hey," Kurt says. "You're all tense now."

Sebastian breathes out, makes a physical effort to relax the tense line of his shoulders. "Yeah well, I'm not gonna be Shakespeare in two weeks, you know?" he says, "As a matter of fact, I could suck. What if I'm the worst writer in the world and I have you fooled thinking that I'm some kind of undiscovered talent?"

"I don't know." Kurt shrugs, smiling up at him and squeezing his hands yet again. "So maybe you suck, so what? Doesn't mean you shouldn't _try._"

"Really? That's your heartfelt advice? No I believe in you, Sebastian? You're fantastic and you deserve to go after your dreams? Also, you're fantastic in bed, the _best _I've ever had?" Sebastian says, smirking when Kurt smacks him playfully on the chest.

Kurt snorts, smiling cheekily. "Sure, sweetheart, whatever you say."

"You wound me, deeply."

"And you're changing the subject."

"I know," Sebastian agrees, softening his lips until his smirk turns into an uncomfortable smile. He looks at Kurt, his blue, blue eyes that he never wants to disappoint, and leans in for a quick, soft kiss. "Let me get away with it?"

Kurt nods, the movement slow and small. He moves closer, looking for another kiss, right after he says, "Just this once."

"Ok, just this once."

* * *

Later that night, after Kurt's gone, Sebastian drives their conversation away from his mind by focusing himself on the mindless job of tending to the café. It's a slow night, but he dons an apron and swipes at the floor as if Paulette hadn't spent the morning leaving it mirror-bright.

"So," Tom says suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled upon them. "I sorta asked Ginette out on a date."

Sebastian stops his mindless sweeping almost immediately to look up, and spies Hunter as he does the same. They both look at Tom, who is busying himself by grabbing his coat and scarf.

Sebastian asks, "Sorta?"

"Well, yeah," Tom says, not looking at them, and _honestly_, the kid jumps people for the opportunity of a portrait but he's shy about this. "I mean, it's just coffee."

"You're taking your coffee-shop co-worker out for _coffee?_," Sebastian wonders.

"Yeah, I thought I–" he stops, looking at Sebastian mildly panicked, "oh God, I'm gonna screw this up, aren't I?"

Sebastian smiles, amused by Tom's huge-eyed look. "You'll be fine," he reassures. "Just, no drama at work."

"No drama, right. I'm just gonna… go. And think. Maybe I should change the coffee thing?"

"You'll be just fine," Sebastian assures, patting Tom's back when he's close enough. Tom gives him a small smile and a nod, and after waving at Hunter, he leaves. Once he's outside, both he and Hunter chuckle softly.

"He's kind of like a baby brother to you, isn't he?" Hunter wonders.

Sebastian looks at him, at the way he's mindlessly cleaning the counter, the same thing he's been doing for the past half an hour. He thinks of Tom, Ginette and Paulette, the way they are in love with the café, and the way they seem to know Sebastian even if he's made a conscious effort to keep to himself. Not too long ago, he would have said that he didn't care much for them, but the truth is that one way or another, they are a little family that has been part of his life in Paris for years now. A family that has seemingly adopted Hunter and Kurt easily and with open arms.

"I guess so, yeah," he answers, finally. He shakes his head, chooses to change the subject before he's forced to admit how much of a softie he's turned into. "When was the last time you slept, Hunt?" he wonders.

"A few hours, this morning," Hunter answers with a shrug.

He doesn't say another word, but at least he's given up on the counter, and is now playing with Mr. Puss, making him lazily stretch to get his nails into the cleaning rag.

"Don't look at me like that," Hunter says after a second.

"I'm not looking at you."

"Uh huh."

Sebastian sighs, and gives up on his mindless sweeping so he can sit in one of the barstools and look pointedly at Hunter. Mr. Puss gives him _a look, _as if trying to scare him away.

"This cat really hates me," he states.

"No, he doesn't," Hunter counters. "You look at him like he's personally offended you and he can tell, so he's defensive."

"But he's personally offended me! Do you remember my couch back home? The grey one? Do you?"

Hunter looks up then, lifting his nose up haughtily in that way that's so _Hunter _that Sebastian has to smile. "It's not his fault you had such a scratchable couch."

Sebastian snorts, and then laughs wholeheartedly. Once he's settled down, though, he looks back at Hunter, and says, "Seriously, though, Hunt. Sleep?"

Hunter shrugs, puts his hand to Mr. Puss' fur and bites his lip. "I'm not getting many hours, no," he confesses. "I talked to dad, though, and he gave me the number of Doctor Can't-Pronounce-Your-Stupid-French-Name, after lecturing me for about half an hour, so yeah."

"Good," Sebastian says. "That's good." Then, he clarifies, "The doctor, not the lecture."

"I don't know, dude, I think he believes he can fix me with enough military discipline."

Sebastian crinkles his nose, says, "Don't call me _dude_."

"Right," Hunter answers, a smile teasing his lips, "Kurt says it's tacky to be over twenty five and call people dude."

Sebastian smiles too, a little wistfully. "Sounds like him."

Sebastian sighs, resting his elbow on the counter and his face against his hand. He's officially turned into a fifteen year old girl and he doesn't even mind. He blinks, slow and tired, and only wakes up from his daydreaming about Kurt's eyes when a rag hits him straight on the face.

"Stop daydreaming, it's pathetic."

Sebastian throws the rag back, chuckling when it lands on Hunter's face and Hunter looks at it like its toxic.

"No, but really," Hunter says after he's discarded the rag and has cleaned his face and hands with fresh water. "I've never seen you so…" he moves his hand around in the air, like he can't quite find the word, and then finishes with, "… enamored."

Sebastian shrugs, smiles yet again. "The first time we were left alone he told me that I had CW hair and looked like a meerkat, and also that he didn't like me. Of course I'm enamored."

"In his defense," Hunter pipes in, "I'm going to guess that you were being nasty to him."

"That assumption wounds me deeply." Hunter looks at him with a raised eyebrow, so Sebastian quickly concedes, saying, "Fine, maybe hitting on his boyfriend wasn't the wisest approach."

"When_ was_ this?"

"Oh, right. Junior year, he was dating Blaine Anderson. Remember Blaine?"

"Yeah, sure." Hunter nods, biting his lip, and Sebastian can almost see the wheels turning in his head. "He's the boyfriend from that other school? Oh my God, Bas, was Kurt a Warbler?"

Sebastian nods. "Yeah, for a while there."

"Oh my God, he's _one of us!_"

"Hunter, we're not actually a cult, you know?"

"Shut up, I'm gonna text him. We gave to do a number now, Bas, there's no excuse."

"Oh my God, are you for–" But Hunter's already texting away, and not paying much attention to Sebastian. His short run with The Warblers is still a bright point in Hunter's life, Sebastian knows, so he doesn't have the heart to stop him, not even if he wants to take them back to the days of harmonies and coordinated steps, or the times when Sebastian was too much of a jerk to think about anything but getting what he wanted.

It's good to see Hunter smile, though, to see him forget the world for a second, enough that it makes Sebastian smile goofily at his antics, and forget about the world himself.

* * *

Hunter leaves him alone later that night, sleep finally forcing him into a slow trudge upstairs, cat between his arms and eyes already half closed. Sebastian, alone with his thoughts, turns into his most masochistic self and finds his laptop, opens an empty Word document, and stares patiently at the blinking cursor. It's stupid to do this when he's not exactly sure what it is he wants to write about, but at the same time, he's hoping that some of his old crazy string of thoughts kind of writing comes to him. Nothing's happening, though, and by the time he closes the laptop and starts thinking about going out for a smoke, he's managed to drive himself half crazy.

This afternoon he'd been thinking that he doesn't want to disappoint Kurt, but the truth is that he doesn't want to disappoint _himself. _It was easier to go about things when he'd forgotten about half formed dreams and the idea of doing something with himself other than taking care of the café. Now, he's constantly wondering where the hell his words have gone, and why have they deserted him.

When the laptop is closed, he puts both his hands on top of the counter, feels the cold from the material sip into his skin. He loves this place, the feeling of it, the warm lights, the smell of fresh coffee. He loves that Hunter is here now, that Kurt feels like he belongs, that his mom used to love it. The place is filled with ghosts of the dead and of the living, and he knows that those ghosts want to step into a blank page. All he needs to do is gather them, give them the shape of an honest story.

It's hard, though, because Sebastian hasn't been honest with himself for what feels like ages. Before Kurt appeared back in his life he'd been doing his best at ignoring the heavy feeling of his lost mom and his disappointed father, the burdening of having screwed up his one honest friendship on the world. Now, everything is at the forefront of his mind and his heart, accompanied by the constant swoop of his stomach whenever Kurt is close, and Sebastian feels jumbled, pulled in a million directions when he'd been nearly static before. It's a little scary, a little too much, and he presses his hand to the counter hoping that the solidity of the café will give him the balance he needs. He wishes, for a second, that he could sneer at life the way he'd done when he was a stupid, blind teenager.

He breathes out hard, stops his train of thoughts. He's happy, happier than he's been in a long time, and he doesn't know why he keeps fiddling with his thoughts so much. He shakes his arms, as if physically removing all of his frustrations, and turns around so he can pour himself a nice cup of coffee. He's always loved the night shift, but there's something disturbingly introspective about Paris' cold nights that he doesn't need right now.

He's halfway done with his coffee when the doorbell chimes and Kurt steps inside the café. Sebastian wasn't expecting him tonight, but he can't say the sight of his flushed cheeks isn't a welcome one.

"Wasn't expecting you tonight," he says.

Kurt just shrugs before taking off his coat, scarf and gloves, and leaving them all on top of one of the barstools. When he sits down in another one, Sebastian notices the way his right hands keeps tracing an invisible ring over his ring finger. Without meaning to, Sebastian counts, one, two, three, four swipes, a little pause, another four swipes.

"Ok?" he asks.

Kurt shrugs again, like he doesn't want to talk about anything. And he probably doesn't, they way his body language is closed off, his eyes downcast and his fingers keep twitching, unstoppable in their pattern. He'd been smiling when he left today, and now he hasn't even made as if to touch Sebastian.

"Is this about Blaine?" Sebastian asks, looking pointedly at Kurt's repetitive movement.

Kurt startles, looking up at him with big eyes, as if only now realizing what he's doing. He looks at his hands, and only stops touching his ring finger when he's finished one of his repetitions. He presses one hand to the counter, fingers spread, and Sebastian takes it as an invitation. He moves his own hand, slow but sure, watches as Kurt follows its movement, and finally interlaces their fingers. He squeezes, and Kurt's hand settles easily inside his.

"I didn't realize I had such a telling tick."

"Yeah," Sebastian says. "It's the finger for Blaine, and the nose for your dad."

Kurt sighs, closes his eyes for a second too long, as if he can't bear the thought of being so easily read. Sebastian can empathize with the feeling, and it makes him think of their brief meetings as teenagers, the way they had protected themselves behind harsh and blunt words, hiding their weaknesses as if afraid of vulnerability. Funny how the years have made them spill their guts to each other without a second thought.

"It's not," Kurt starts after a while, licking his dry lips. "It's not as bad as Hunter's, I don't think. I've never taken pills, and the one time I saw a therapist I nearly punched him when he started mumbling stupid clichés about daddy issues and parental loss."

Sebastian snorts, can almost picture Kurt, nose high up in the air, telling a too smart for his own good therapist to fuck off.

"But yeah," he continues. "I have my moments."

"Bad day?"

"I talked with everyone back home, dad and Rachel and Blaine, and I just, I'm just really tired," he says, and his eyes look down again instead of at Sebastian. "I wanted to come give you this, though."

He takes his hand away from Sebastian's and instinctively he follows just a bit, feeling the loss immediately. Kurt searches his coat's pocket for something, and when he finds it he presents it to Sebastian.

"It's tickets, for my show," he says, "for all of you. I thought–I don't know, that maybe you'd like to come? I told you it's not really good, but maybe you could close the café for a few hours, make a night out of it for everybody?"

Sebastian hates how unsure Kurt sounds tonight, like he's been drained of all his life energy, and he has to wonder what the hell kind of conversations he has with the people back home that leave him this un-Kurt like.

"Yeah, we can do that."

"And anyway, I had to promise Hunter that we'd go to a karaoke after some pretty weird texting." Kurt smiles, almost amused for a second.

Sebastian smiles, too, tries to make as if everything's alright and Kurt doesn't look like death warmed over.

"He may be overexcited about the fact that you were a Warbler."

Kurt smiles, just a little bigger than before, and Sebastian silently thanks Hunter for his antics. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

When Kurt says nothing else, Sebastian looks for his hand again, grasps it and squeezes. He doesn't know what to do or what to ask. He thinks Kurt may want to talk about what's bothering him, but he looks so tired that he doesn't want to press some kind of serious conversation on him.

"Hey," he says, "Why don't you go upstairs and get some sleep? You look really tired, and Hunter's snoring can be surprisingly soothing."

Kurt smiles at him, his little tired eyes crinkling at the corners. "Think I don't know that by now? I practically live here," he stage-whispers, like it's a secret. "You don't mind, do you? If I get some sleep?"

For a second there, Kurt almost looks lively, so of course Sebastian doesn't mind if the simple thought of sleeping in his bed seems to help get him out of his funk.

"No, of course not," Sebastian says, smile coming a little easier this time. "Also, if you happen to be naked when I go join you, I wouldn't mind."

"Perv."

"Damn right."

Kurt's smile then is a sight to see. It still feels tired, almost weary in an old person kind of way, but it's bright and big, and it lights up Kurt's face completely. Sebastian thinks Kurt's going to leave then, but instead Kurt surges forward, leaning over the counter in a way that has to have it digging against his stomach, and brings one hand to Sebastian's shoulder so he can pull him closer. Sebastian goes, and when Kurt kisses him, open-mouthed and slow, he cups Kurt's cheeks and keeps him in place. They kiss for longer than it's comfortable with the counter between them, and it's the kind of kiss that has Sebastian wanting to say stupid things like _I love you, _or _never leave me, _or _I think future me wants to marry future you._

* * *

A/N:

So sorry for the long hiatus; it's been a few crazy weeks at work.

Thanks everybody for the comments and the lovely vacation wishes!


End file.
